Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.

“Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.” — thus spoke Benjamin Franklin, that wise founder of a young republic, whose words still shine like steady lanterns in the corridors of time. Though he lived in an age of invention and discovery, Franklin understood that no art was more delicate — nor more necessary — than the art of friendship. In these few words, he offers a truth as enduring as the human heart itself: that one must choose friends with patience and discernment, but once chosen, must hold to them with loyalty and faith. For friendship is not a passing convenience; it is a covenant between souls.

The first part of Franklin’s counsel — “Be slow in choosing a friend” — is a call to wisdom. Many rush into friendship as they do into pleasure, guided by charm, shared laughter, or the warmth of new affection. But Franklin warns that true friendship is not to be entered lightly. A friend, he knew, is not merely a companion for joy, but a partner in life’s trials — one who will stand beside you when the world turns cold. To choose such a person requires patience, as the jeweler studies each stone before calling it precious. The heart must not be deceived by glittering appearances; it must look for the inner flame of character.

Franklin himself learned this through experience. In his youth, he was surrounded by men of wit and ambition, yet he observed that not all who smiled were sincere, nor all who flattered were true. Over time, he found that only those who shared his love for virtue, curiosity, and honest labor were worthy of trust. So he chose carefully, valuing fidelity above flattery, and integrity above charm. His friendships — with men like David Hume and George Whitefield — were not born in haste, but in tested respect. From this he drew his timeless lesson: that friendships formed too quickly often perish just as swiftly, for roots planted in shallow soil cannot withstand the storms.

The second part of his teaching — “slower in changing” — carries even greater depth. For once a friend has proven true, Franklin urges us to hold that bond with constancy, even when time or hardship strains it. The true measure of friendship is not in its beginning but in its endurance. Many abandon their friends at the first shadow of disagreement, but Franklin reminds us that loyalty is the heart of friendship. To change friends lightly is to treat love as a garment — worn for a season, discarded when worn. But friendship is not cloth; it is iron, tempered by fire, growing stronger through trial.

History is filled with examples of this truth. Consider the bond between Marcus Tullius Cicero and Atticus, men of the Roman Republic. Their lives diverged in politics, belief, and fortune — yet through years of exile, war, and loss, they remained faithful correspondents and companions. Their letters, still read today, reveal a friendship that endured the shifting sands of Rome itself. Cicero, often restless and proud, found in Atticus a patient counselor; and Atticus, though cautious by nature, never abandoned his friend in disgrace. They were slow in choosing, and slower in changing, and because of this, their friendship became immortal.

In this age, when connections are made in haste and forgotten in silence, Franklin’s wisdom burns with renewed power. Friendships born in convenience may glitter like sparks, but they fade as quickly. The friendships that endure are those chosen with care — rooted in shared values, watered by loyalty, and tended through forgiveness. When misunderstanding arises, do not turn away too soon. When distance grows, reach out instead of letting silence win. The truest friendships are not those that never falter, but those that rise again after faltering.

Let this, then, be the lesson passed down: take time in choosing those who will walk beside you in life’s long road. Seek not the loudest companions, but the steady ones; not those who flatter, but those who speak truth. And once you have found them, be steadfast. Defend them when others doubt, stand by them when others flee, and forgive them when the world tempts you to forget. For as Franklin reminds us, friendship is not a fleeting pleasure but a sacred trust — a bond to be formed with patience, and held with devotion.

So remember the old sage’s words: “Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.” For to choose well and remain faithful is to live with honor. And when age has dimmed your eyes and the world has changed beyond your knowing, you will still have those few, rare souls who know your heart — and in their presence, you will find that time itself has been your friend.