Love, written in structure
Every love language is less about decoration and more about intention. HTML is intention made visible: headings that say “this matters,” paragraphs that say “stay awhile,” links that say “I’m thinking of you—here’s more,” and lists that say “I brought this in a way you can carry.”
The web is crowded with performances, but HTML is a promise: this will work in your browser, on your phone, in a screen reader, in ten years, in a place with spotty Wi-Fi, in a tab you reopen because you weren’t ready to let it go.
It’s not trying to impress you—it's trying to reach you
HTML doesn’t demand the newest device or the strongest connection. It meets people where they are. That’s a kind of care. A simple document can be copied, translated, archived, searched, printed, quoted, and remixed. It can become a lesson, a recipe, a manifesto, a lullaby.
When we write HTML well, we’re saying: you belong here, regardless of how you arrive.
What HTML gives the world
- Clarity: meaning first, style second.
- Accessibility: content that welcomes more humans.
- Resilience: pages that degrade gracefully instead of collapsing.
- Longevity: a format that ages like a book, not like a trend.
- Connection: links as a social instinct—“come with me.”
The soft power of plain text
Under the glow of animations and frameworks, HTML stays quietly revolutionary: it’s readable by humans. It can be authored in a bare editor. It can be taught, learned, and shared without gates.
The web began as a way to connect knowledge. HTML is still that origin story, retold every time someone publishes something they want others to find.
And that’s why it’s timeless: because the need it answers is timeless. We will always want to say, “Here’s what I mean,” and “Here’s where to go next.”