Beware of anyone who says they know. Trust me, they don't, or

Harvey Fierstein, with the candor of one who has walked long upon the road of life, warns us thus: “Beware of anyone who says they know. Trust me, they don’t, or they wouldn’t have to say they did.” This saying, though simple, is a dagger of truth. It pierces the arrogance of false certainty and exposes the hollowness of those who cloak ignorance with loud words. For wisdom does not parade itself; it speaks in humility, it acts with quiet strength. The one who truly knows need not boast — the fruit of their life reveals it.

The ancients too understood this. Socrates, the philosopher of Athens, declared that the only thing he knew was that he knew nothing. Yet by this confession, he showed himself the wisest of men. Why? Because he grasped the boundless nature of truth, and refused to close his mind with arrogance. In contrast, those who strutted about the city, proclaiming themselves keepers of knowledge, were revealed as shallow in both thought and character. Beware such voices, Fierstein reminds us — for the louder the claim, the weaker the foundation.

History abounds with examples. Consider the tragedy of the Titanic. Its builders and owners boasted that it was “unsinkable.” They claimed to know what the seas could never undo. Yet their pride became the ship’s doom. Ice tore through steel, and the great vessel sank into the depths. Thousands perished not because the ocean was cruel, but because men trusted the certainty of those who said, “We know.” Had they spoken with humility — had they acknowledged limits, prepared for danger, and respected the unknown — countless lives might have been saved.

On the other hand, see the figure of Albert Einstein. His discoveries reshaped the world, yet he never claimed mastery of all knowledge. Again and again, he confessed wonder, doubt, and awe before the mysteries of creation. In his humility, he showed the mark of true wisdom. He did not need to say, “I know,” for his insights and his reverence for truth bore witness more powerfully than words. Thus, the truly wise whisper, while the foolish boast.

Children of the future, remember this: certainty is a cloak often worn by fear. The one who shouts, “Trust me, I know,” often seeks to hide the trembling of their own ignorance. Trust instead the quiet voice, the one who listens, the one who admits doubt and yet strives earnestly toward understanding. For doubt is not weakness — it is the beginning of true wisdom. He who doubts learns. He who claims all knowledge stops learning and soon perishes in his blindness.

The lesson is clear: guard your heart against the pomp of false teachers and arrogant leaders. Look for humility, not pride; for honesty, not performance. Do not be deceived by loud proclamations of certainty, but weigh the fruit of a life, the patience of inquiry, the integrity of action. If one must tell you they know, beware — but if one shows you wisdom through deeds and humility, then you may trust them.

Practical actions follow from this truth: when you encounter a voice that insists upon its own authority, pause and question. Ask yourself, Do their words match their deeds? Do they acknowledge the limits of their knowledge? And in your own life, resist the temptation to boast of what you know. Instead, be a seeker — ever learning, ever questioning, ever open. For the world belongs not to those who shout “I know,” but to those who humbly walk in pursuit of truth.

So let it be remembered: beware of anyone who says they know. The truly wise do not need to declare it; they live it. And when you live this way — humble, honest, and ever learning — you not only guard yourself from deception, but you become a light to others, a bearer of wisdom, and a keeper of truth in a world darkened by false certainty.