Arthur Rubinstein and the Art of Loving Life
Arthur Rubinstein, one of the twentieth century’s most celebrated pianists, offered this gem of wisdom late in his extraordinary life: “I have found that if you love life, life will love you back.” The quote exemplifies the optimistic philosophy that sustained Rubinstein through nearly a century of living, performing, and creating music. To understand these words requires understanding the man who spoke them—a virtuoso whose fingers danced across piano keys for over seventy years, a lover of art and beauty who believed that passion was the greatest teacher, and a humanist who saw music as a bridge between all people.
Rubinstein was born in Łódź, Poland, in 1887 to a prosperous Jewish family, and his relationship with music began almost magically. According to legend, as a young child he heard a violin performance and was so moved that he wept with joy. His musical gift was evident from the start, and by age five he was already studying piano. His parents recognized his prodigious talent and sent him to Berlin to study with renowned teachers. Yet even as a child, Rubinstein possessed an unusual quality that would define his entire life: he didn’t simply want to master the technical aspects of music, but to understand its soul. This distinction between mechanical mastery and soulful expression would become the cornerstone of his artistic philosophy and would ultimately shape how he approached not just music, but life itself.
The context of Rubinstein’s quote likely emerged from interviews or reflections in his later years, when he had become an elder statesman of classical music and had earned the perspective that only a long life could provide. In the 1970s and 1980s, as Rubinstein approached and then passed his ninetieth decade, he was frequently asked to reflect on his remarkable journey. He had lived through two world wars, the rise and fall of empires, the evolution of recording technology, and countless personal triumphs and heartbreaks. It was from this vantage point of accumulated wisdom that he spoke about loving life. He wasn’t speaking theoretically or abstractly; he was speaking from lived experience. He had genuinely tested this philosophy across eight-plus decades and found it to be true.
What many people don’t know about Rubinstein is just how unconventional he was for a classical musician of his era. While his contemporaries often cultivated images of serious, austere artists devoted solely to their craft, Rubinstein was a hedonist in the finest sense. He loved fine wine, beautiful women, good food, and lively conversation. He had numerous romantic affairs and scandals that would have been unthinkable for other musicians of his stature. Rather than hiding this side of himself, Rubinstein was remarkably open about it, even playful. In his autobiography, he wrote with candor and humor about his lovers, his gambling habits, and his enjoyment of nightlife. He refused to be constrained by the narrow expectations society placed on concert artists. This refusal to diminish himself, to live smaller in order to appear more “serious,” was itself a form of loving life. He understood that a full, passionate life—one that included both artistic pursuits and sensual pleasures—was worth living fully, without apology.
Another lesser-known aspect of Rubinstein’s character was his extraordinary resilience and optimism in the face of genuine tragedy. In 1932, his eighteen-month-old son died, a loss that devastated him profoundly. Rather than allowing this tragedy to permanently embitter him or cause him to retreat from life, Rubinstein channeled his grief into his art and his remaining relationships. He went on to have a long, happy marriage and a full family life. He didn’t deny the pain—he felt it deeply—but he didn’t allow it to poison his love of living. This ability to hold both sadness and joy simultaneously, to acknowledge darkness without surrendering to it, informed his philosophy deeply. When he spoke of loving life, he wasn’t ignoring life’s capacity to hurt; he was suggesting that even with that awareness, the proper response is still love.
The cultural impact of Rubinstein’s philosophy extends well beyond concert halls and music conservatories. In an era of increasing cynicism, especially during the late twentieth century, his message of life-loving optimism offered a counterweight to pessimism and despair. The quote has been widely shared on social media, cited in motivational contexts, and referenced in discussions of happiness and fulfillment. What’s remarkable is how appropriate Rubinstein’s words remain for contemporary life. In a time of economic uncertainty, political division, and environmental anxiety, the idea that loving life could actually improve one’s experience of it strikes a chord with millions of people seeking meaning and contentment. The quote suggests not a denial of life’s difficulties, but a choice about how to meet them: with openness, passion, and reciprocal love rather than resignation or bitterness.
The wisdom in Rubinstein’s observation lies in its recognition of a subtle but profound reciprocity in human experience. The idea isn’t merely that positive thinking will magically change circumstances—that would be naive and the intelligent Rubinstein wouldn’t have endorsed such simplistic thinking. Rather, his philosophy suggests something more nuanced: that the energy and attitude we bring to our lives actually shapes what we receive from them. When we approach experiences, people, and challenges with genuine curiosity, passion, and openness rather than cynicism and fear, we tend to have richer,