However rare true love may be, it is less so than true

In the words of François de La Rochefoucauld, that master of moral insight and mirror of the human heart, we find a truth as piercing as it is profound: “However rare true love may be, it is less so than true friendship.” These words, born in the courts of seventeenth-century France, where wit and deceit danced hand in hand, reach across centuries to touch the soul of every listener. For they reveal that while love may dazzle like lightning — sudden, consuming, divine — friendship is the steady flame that endures, rarer still, for it demands a purer honesty of spirit.

To understand his meaning, one must know the world from which La Rochefoucauld spoke. A nobleman and philosopher of the heart, he lived among courtiers who masked desire as affection and flattery as loyalty. He saw that what men call “love” often hides ambition or vanity — that passion may burn bright but rarely burns true. Yet friendship, when it exists in its highest form, requires something far greater than desire: virtue, trust, and equality of soul. Love can spring from need, but friendship is born only from mutual understanding — a bond between spirits who see one another clearly and still choose to remain.

The ancients, too, revered this truth. Aristotle taught that there are three kinds of friendship: those of utility, those of pleasure, and the rarest — those of virtue, in which two souls unite in pursuit of the good. Such friendship, he said, is eternal, for it is based not on changing whims, but on shared integrity. La Rochefoucauld, writing from a world more cynical than Aristotle’s, agrees with this — but with a sigh. He sees how rarely such friendships are found, for the human heart is proud and fragile. Many can love in passion’s fever, but few can befriend in truth’s calm.

Consider the friendship between Socrates and Crito, or between David and Jonathan of old. When Socrates faced death, it was Crito who sat beside him, weeping, begging him to flee. Yet Socrates refused, for his duty to truth was greater than his fear. And Crito, though his heart broke, understood — he did not forsake him, nor curse him, but honored his friend’s integrity even unto death. That is true friendship — not the comfort of agreement, but the sacred strength to love what is right in another, even when it costs us dearly. How few in any age can love thus!

In contrast, love, though beautiful, is often mingled with self-interest. It is a dance of need and desire, and because it burns so fiercely, it may blind rather than illuminate. Many fall in love not with another soul, but with the reflection of their own longing. But friendship is clear-sighted — it sees flaws and forgives them, not out of blindness, but out of wisdom. Love, in its passion, demands possession; friendship, in its serenity, grants freedom. That is why La Rochefoucauld, ever the realist of the heart, declares friendship rarer still — for it asks of us not only warmth, but constancy, humility, and grace.

The origin of his words lies in his life — one filled with betrayal and disappointment, yet also with profound observation. He had known courtly romance and political intrigue, and from those experiences arose his conviction: that many proclaim love, but few live friendship. His Maxims, sharp as a blade, cut through illusion to expose the frailty of human motives. Yet behind their cynicism lies not bitterness, but yearning — a longing for the purity of connection that only true friendship can offer.

So, what lesson do these words bestow upon us? It is this: do not chase love as though it were the highest prize, for love, though splendid, may come and go like a season. Seek instead the friendship that endures beyond desire — the one that listens when the world grows silent, that speaks truth even when truth wounds, that stands firm through joy and despair alike. To find such friendship, one must first become such a friend — honest, loyal, and without pride.

Thus, let La Rochefoucauld’s wisdom echo within your heart: True love may be rare, but true friendship rarer still. Guard it, honor it, and labor for it. For lovers may fall apart, but friends endure beyond the grave, bound not by passion but by the calm fire of mutual respect. And when your own days grow old, and love’s early fires have cooled, it will be the hand of a true friend that remains in yours — warm, steady, and eternal.