It takes a long time to grow an old friend.

“It takes a long time to grow an old friend.”
Thus spoke John Leonard, a writer whose wit and wisdom often carried the quiet weight of truth. In this brief but profound statement, Leonard reveals one of life’s greatest secrets: that friendship, like a tree, is not made but grown—slowly, patiently, over years of shared laughter and sorrow, trust and forgiveness, silence and understanding. To have an old friend is to possess something that time alone can give: the deep roots of affection that have weathered both storm and sun.

The origin of this saying lies in Leonard’s reflection on the enduring nature of human connection. A critic, essayist, and lover of words, he observed how fleeting much of modern life had become—how quickly people formed bonds and how easily they let them fade. Against this backdrop, he offered his reminder: true friendship cannot be rushed. It is not the spark of first acquaintance that matters, but the slow burning fire that endures through the seasons of change. Just as it takes years for a sapling to become a mighty oak, so too does it take years for a friendship to grow into something strong, sheltering, and full of life.

The meaning of his words runs deep. An old friend is not simply one you have known for a long time—it is one who has grown with you. You have seen each other’s triumphs and failures, shared the joy of beginnings and the pain of endings. There is a quiet knowing between old friends, a comfort beyond words. You no longer need to explain yourself, for your stories are already woven together. Such friendship is rare and sacred because it is built layer by layer, each year adding depth, each trial adding strength. It cannot be bought, imitated, or hurried; it must, as Leonard says, be grown.

Consider the ancient bond between C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, two giants of imagination who met as young men and became lifelong companions in thought and faith. Their friendship was not effortless—it was cultivated through years of conversation, debate, and shared vision. They encouraged each other’s writing, argued fiercely over theology, and comforted one another through grief. When Lewis published The Chronicles of Narnia, Tolkien rejoiced, though he preferred his own Lord of the Rings. When Tolkien faced criticism, Lewis defended him with unwavering loyalty. Over decades, their friendship ripened like fine wine. It was not the absence of disagreement that made it strong, but the presence of loyalty and time. Indeed, it took them a lifetime to “grow” what Leonard so simply describes—an old friendship, rich in memory and meaning.

Leonard’s wisdom also reminds us that time itself is the great gardener of the human heart. In an age that prizes speed, his words call us back to the slow work of love. Friendships must be tended, watered with patience, pruned of pride. There will be seasons of distance and misunderstanding, but if the roots are deep, the bond will endure. Every shared struggle, every forgiven mistake, every quiet moment of presence—these are the rains that nourish the friendship-tree. And when it has grown old, its shade becomes a place of peace, where one can rest and remember that life, though fleeting, was beautiful because it was shared.

But Leonard’s quote also carries a gentle warning. Many seek the comfort of an old friend without the effort of years. They wish to reap the sweetness without enduring the growth. Yet no bond of true worth is born in haste. To grow an old friend, one must first be a good friend—faithful, patient, forgiving. The harvest of friendship comes only to those who stay through all weathers, who sow kindness even when the soil of the heart feels barren. It is not time alone that makes a friend old, but the love maintained within that time.

Let this be the lesson for all who seek the treasure of enduring friendship: cherish the friends you have, and tend those bonds as one tends a sacred garden. Do not take them for granted, nor rush to replace them when storms come. Send words of gratitude, offer forgiveness freely, and give your time generously. For friendship, once old, is not merely companionship—it is memory, history, and home. When the years have passed and the world grows quieter, you will find that your old friends are the greatest proof that love, once planted with care, never truly dies.

Thus, the wisdom of John Leonard endures like a tree that has stood through a hundred seasons: “It takes a long time to grow an old friend.” To live by this truth is to honor the beauty of patience, the sanctity of loyalty, and the eternal miracle of human connection. For the hands that once sowed kindness will, in the autumn of life, rest beneath the shade of friendships that have grown deep and everlasting.