Don't talk about yourself; it will be done when you leave.

“Don’t talk about yourself; it will be done when you leave.” Thus spoke Wilson Mizner, the sharp-witted playwright and adventurer of the early twentieth century, whose humor often concealed the sting of wisdom. His words, though clothed in jest, reveal a profound truth about humility, reputation, and the strange judgment of the world. In this saying, Mizner reminds us that a person’s worth is not declared by their own tongue, but revealed by the echo they leave behind. The wise need not boast of who they are; their deeds will speak when they are no longer present to speak for themselves.

In the ancient days, the philosophers and poets knew this lesson well. The sage Lao Tzu once said, “He who knows does not speak; he who speaks does not know.” And the Greek historian Herodotus recorded how even kings were warned to temper their pride, for the gods would humble those who proclaimed their own greatness. Mizner’s modern phrasing carries the same eternal wisdom: that self-praise is the currency of the insecure, while silence and modesty are the garments of true strength. To speak of oneself is to spend one’s greatness cheaply; to let others speak of you after you are gone is to have earned respect that endures beyond your presence.

Mizner was a man of many contradictions — a gambler, a playwright, a hotelier, and a wit whose adventures ranged from Alaska to Broadway. He understood the fickleness of reputation, having seen men adored one moment and forgotten the next. His humor was born of this experience — the knowledge that the world always forms its opinion when you’re not there to defend yourself. And so, with the cynic’s grin and the sage’s truth, he advised: “Don’t talk about yourself.” For even as you speak, others are already deciding who you truly are.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor and philosopher. He ruled with immense power yet refused to glorify himself. In his Meditations, written not for others but for his own soul, he constantly reminded himself to act with virtue and restraint, and to leave the judgment of his character to time. Today, centuries after his death, his words still command respect. Marcus never needed to proclaim his greatness — his actions, born of quiet wisdom, became his monument. He understood, as Mizner did, that legacy is carved not by the voice but by the hand.

Mizner’s quote also serves as a mirror for our age, when voices rise endlessly in self-promotion — when men and women, through the devices of modern communication, speak of themselves more than ever before. Yet his wisdom remains unchanged: the more one speaks of themselves, the smaller their image becomes. For words about oneself often smell of vanity, but deeds done in silence have the fragrance of truth. It is the humble craftsman who builds without boasting whose work endures; the one who seeks praise finds only noise, but the one who seeks purpose leaves music that plays long after he is gone.

There is a deeper lesson here — not merely about humility, but about trust in time. To refrain from speaking of oneself is to believe that truth does not need to be shouted; it simply needs to be lived. Mizner’s humor conceals this quiet confidence: that the world may gossip and distort, but in the end, character outlives chatter. Let your silence be your strength, your work your testimony, and your life your argument. For when you leave the room, or when you leave this world, your name will rest not on your words but on the impression of your spirit.

So, dear listener, take this wisdom as the ancients did — as both counsel and challenge. Do not seek to declare your worth; demonstrate it. Let your words serve others, not yourself. Work with integrity, act with grace, and trust that time will reveal your truth. Speak not of who you are, but let what you create, what you give, what you love — speak for you when you are gone. For the echo of a humble life will outlast the noise of a proud one.

Thus, remember the teaching of Wilson Mizner: “Don’t talk about yourself; it will be done when you leave.” When the door closes behind you, may those who remain speak not of your boasts, but of your kindness; not of your words, but of your works. Live, therefore, in such a way that you need not say a thing — for the story of your life will already be speaking, softly and eternally, in your absence.