I'm not the smartest fellow in the world, but I can sure pick

“I’m not the smartest fellow in the world, but I can sure pick smart colleagues.” — Franklin D. Roosevelt, the man who led a broken nation through the fires of despair and the storms of war. These words, humble and radiant with wisdom, reveal a truth far deeper than mere modesty. They tell us that the strength of a leader, or of any human soul, lies not in solitary brilliance, but in the wisdom of choosing companions wisely. Roosevelt’s genius was not in claiming to know all things — it was in knowing whom to trust, whom to empower, and whom to listen to.

In the ancient days, when kings ruled by sword and divine right, the wise among them understood that no crown could stand without counsel. A king who thought himself all-knowing soon drowned in his own arrogance. But a king who gathered wise advisors around him became greater than the sum of their minds. So too did Roosevelt rule — not as a god among men, but as a man among giants, each chosen for their gifts, each trusted to lend strength where his own fell short. For this is the mark of true leadership: to see greatness in others and to draw it forth like a sword from stone.

When Roosevelt spoke these words, he had already faced the darkness of paralysis, the Great Depression, and the looming thunder of world war. He could no longer walk upon the earth with his own legs, yet he strode through history on the strength of those he gathered — men and women of courage, intellect, and faith. His “Brain Trust,” as it was called, became the vessel of his will. Scholars, economists, and visionaries came together to forge the New Deal, a plan that rekindled hope in a despairing land. Roosevelt understood that a leader does not need to be the smartest man in the room — only the wisest in spirit, the one who knows how to assemble light from many lamps.

Consider also the story of Abraham Lincoln, another leader born of humility. He was mocked as a country lawyer, rough in speech and manner. Yet Lincoln, too, knew the secret Roosevelt would later voice: surround yourself with the best minds, even those who oppose you. He filled his cabinet with rivals — men who once sought his downfall — because he knew that truth and wisdom are born in the clash of minds, not the echo of agreement. From such unity of diverse thought came the strength to preserve a nation.

To be wise enough to choose smart companions is to confess one’s limits — and that confession is power. It requires humility, for pride blinds a man to the brilliance around him. It requires courage, for the insecure cannot stand beside greatness. But the one who masters his ego gains the strength of many. The ancient Greeks called this “phronesis” — practical wisdom — the kind that builds cities, wins wars, and governs hearts. It is the art of knowing not everything, but everyone worth knowing.

And let it be known: intelligence alone does not guarantee success. Many are brilliant yet broken by isolation, clever yet doomed by arrogance. The man who gathers smart colleagues multiplies his vision, for he understands that truth is not a single flame, but a constellation. Even the sun, blazing alone, needs the firmament to give it meaning. Roosevelt’s greatness was not born of solitude but of collaboration, of listening deeply and acting decisively upon the counsel of others.

So what, then, is the lesson for us who walk the humbler roads of life? It is this: seek not to be the smartest in the room, but to build a room of the wise. Surround yourself with those who challenge you, who expand you, who refuse to let you sink into the comfort of your own certainties. Listen more than you speak, and measure a person not by how much they praise you, but by how much they help you grow.

For in the end, wisdom is communal. The strongest leaders, the deepest thinkers, the noblest souls — all stand upon the shoulders of others. To recognize that truth is not weakness but mastery. As Roosevelt taught, you need not be the smartest to change the world — you need only be wise enough to walk beside those who are.