There are some words we carry with us. Lines that echo in our minds long after we’ve heard them. They’re not always memorized on purpose—they just stick, because they speak to something deep inside us.
The Read to Lead Challenge has an activity that asks us to memorize a poem or a passage of text—something meaningful, something that moves us to action, something that gives us strength.
I’ve been sitting with this prompt for a while.
(If you prefer listening to reading, and with added images…)
It brought to mind a scene from Fahrenheit 451—not the book this time, but the movie version. In that dystopian world where books are banned and burned, a small group of rebels becomes “the book people,” each one committing an entire book to memory and passing it on by reciting it, word for word. Living libraries, on the run.
I started thinking about the passages that have stuck with me—not necessarily through any formal exercise, but simply because they moved me deeply enough that I couldn’t forget them. Here are a few:
“Happy is the person who can improve others, not only when present, but even when in their thoughts.”
— Seneca
“Assume that the person you’re listening to might know something you don’t.”
— Jordan Peterson
“The squeaky wheel may get the grease, but if it squeaks too much, it ends up getting replaced.”
— Will Bowen
There’s a theme here: humility, growth, and the quiet influence we can have on others.
Another one I memorized as a kid—I didn’t even know where it came from at the time, but I remembered it in Portuguese:
“Pessoas sábias falam sobre ideias, pessoas comuns falam sobre coisas, pessoas medíocres falam sobre pessoas.”
Later, I found it (in English) attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt:
“Great minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, small minds discuss people.”
And another one, also in Portuguese from way back:
“Nação desenvolvida é povo que lê.”
A developed nation is a people who read.
That one hits even harder now.
As a kid, though, poetry and literature weren’t framed in a way that invited curiosity. They felt distant—something to be decoded for a test, not felt or lived. Looking back, I realize how much I missed because of that mismatch. It took me years to come back and appreciate these words that make us feel and not just analyze.
It also made me think: we’re taught to read, but not always to listen.
Over time, I’ve added more passages to my mental shelf:
“If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. Don’t complain.”
— Maya Angelou
“Balance is not something you find, it’s something you create.”
— Jana Kingsford
“What you do matters, but why you do it matters much more.”
— Unknown
(that one I had on my business card for many years…)
“A mentor is not someone who walks ahead of us to show us how they did it. A mentor walks alongside us to show us what we can do.”
— Simon Sinek
“The important thing is it isn’t just what you do and what you learn. You gotta pass it on. Then you’ve lived a life worth living.”
— Ronnie James Dio
“Traveling is the antidote to ignorance.”
— Trevor Noah
“Learn from your past and be better because of your past, but don’t cry about your past. Life is full of pain. Let the pain sharpen you, but don’t hold on to it. Don’t be bitter.”
— Patricia Noah
Yes, that’s Trevor’s mom.
The first poetry book I read was Amanda Gorman’s Call Us What We Carry. I had seen her deliver a powerful poem at a presidential inauguration, and when I learned she was publishing a book, I got it as soon as it came out.
Several of her lines have lived with me since:
“Who are we, if not what we make of the dark?”
“Where can we find light in this never-ending shade?”
“There is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.”
“Hate is a virus. A virus demands a body. Hate only survives when hosted in humans.”
Now, that’s Metal! 🤘
Reading those made me reflect: what separates poetry from lyrics?
I’ve written lyrics for my songs—sometimes I read a poem and hear it as music in my head. Other times, I hear a melody and start imagining the words that belong in it. So where’s the line? Maybe the difference is the formality of rhythm and structure, or maybe it’s a backing track’s presence—or absence. Perhaps it’s just perspective.
And maybe that’s okay.
Reading Amanda Gorman’s words about the dark and the light made me think of these lyrics I wrote to my song The Stream and The Mountain:
The waves will form, crash, transform.
The water rejoins the ocean.
Two ways to spread light: create, reflect.
Be the candle or be the mirror.
May the stream of joy erode the mountain of sorrow.
May this gentle breeze take the dead leaves away.
The artist Ren made me rethink my dislike of rap. He explained that rap lyrics follow the rhythm of drums, not the melody. That changed the way I listened. It reminded me: sometimes, we need the right voice to help us hear things differently.
So for this challenge, I’ll revisit the passages I’ve memorized. I’ll pick one or two new ones. I might even set them to music—or write new lines of my own.
Words stick when they mean something to us. When they echo a truth, we already feel it inside.
That’s what I want to memorize.
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