“What matters is not that you hold your ground, but that you hold it for the right reasons.” – Robert Bolt, A Man for All Seasons
In a world increasingly tilted toward pragmatism, efficiency, and compromise, the idea of holding fast to principles—even when they come at great personal cost—can seem naive. Yet, for me, one of the most cherished items in my life isn’t something particularly expensive or rare. It’s a worn-out copy of Robert Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons. It’s a piece of theatre, yes—but for me, it’s a personal manifesto, a reminder, and a mirror.
I keep this book like others might keep heirlooms: with reverence. It\’s not the physical pages I treasure most, but the ideas within. Thomas More, as Bolt paints him, is not a saint in robes but a man of flesh and thought who chooses silence and death over betrayal of conscience. There is something deeply comforting in the clarity of his moral compass—especially in an age when moral direction seems negotiable.
Why does this matter? Because our most personal belongings often reflect not just who we are, but who we aspire to be. In More’s refusal to endorse the King’s divorce, in his quiet resistance, I see not only a man of faith but a man of astonishing internal consistency. That kind of integrity—unfashionable, unyielding—is what I want to hold onto.
To some, More’s idealism might seem rigid or even foolish. But idealism, I believe, isn’t blindness to reality; it’s the stubborn hope that truth is still worth something. In my own life—whether navigating ethical dilemmas, career crossroads, or moments of doubt—I return to Bolt’s lines and More’s silences. They remind me that it’s okay to say “no,” even when everyone else says “yes.” It’s okay to step aside rather than go along. It’s okay to lose—if you lose for the right reasons.
So when I ask, “What personal belongings do you hold most dear?” I’m really asking: What principles do you hold most dear? What objects in your life contain a spark of your truth? For me, it’s this dog-eared play, and the quiet figure of More, who speaks volumes through his stillness.
We all have something like that, don’t we?
