Not everyone can be trusted. I think we all have to be very

The words of Shelley Long—“Not everyone can be trusted. I think we all have to be very selective about the people we trust.”—are spoken with the quiet force of experience. They remind us of one of life’s most enduring truths: the gift of trust is precious, but not all are worthy of it. To open the heart too easily is to invite betrayal; to close it completely is to live in loneliness. Thus, wisdom lies not in blind suspicion nor in reckless faith, but in discernment—choosing carefully whom we allow into the inner sanctum of our lives.

The ancients taught that the soul is a temple, and not all who enter come in reverence. Some come to worship, some to serve, but others come to desecrate. In the same way, trust must be guarded like the doors of a sanctuary. To allow everyone to enter without question is folly, for some hearts carry deceit, and some tongues carry poison. Yet to bar the doors forever is to deny oneself the blessing of fellowship. Shelley Long’s words stand as a reminder: we must be selective, not in bitterness, but in wisdom.

History offers vivid testimony. Julius Caesar, mighty ruler of Rome, placed too much faith in those he called his friends. He trusted Brutus, whom he loved as a son, and yet it was Brutus’ dagger that pierced him in the Senate. His downfall was not in his enemies—those he expected—but in misplaced trust among those closest to him. Contrast this with George Washington, who, though surrounded by plots and spies during the Revolution, chose carefully those he confided in, and through his discernment preserved not only his own life but the cause of liberty itself.

The words also carry a more personal lesson. In our daily lives, many smile at us, many speak kindly, but not all wish us well. Some seek advantage, some seek to use us, and some carry brokenness that bleeds into betrayal. To trust selectively is not cruelty, but a form of protection. It allows us to give freely to those who prove themselves worthy, while safeguarding the heart from those who would trample upon it. This is the balance between openness and caution, between generosity and vigilance.

But Long’s words also warn us against cynicism. To say that “not everyone can be trusted” does not mean no one can. There are those rare souls who prove steadfast through trials, whose loyalty is not shaken by hardship, whose hearts remain true. These are the ones worthy of our deepest trust, and it is only by testing, watching, and discerning that we find them. Like gold refined by fire, true friends reveal themselves not in ease but in adversity.

The lesson for us is therefore twofold: guard your trust, but do not bury it. Test the hearts of those around you, not with suspicion, but with patience. Give small trusts before great ones. Observe how they hold your confidence, how they act in your absence, how they stand when storms come. In this way, you will discover who is worthy of greater trust, and who must remain at a distance.

Practically, this means living with both kindness and caution. Be kind to all, but confide in few. Build your circle not on charm or words alone, but on proven loyalty and integrity. And just as you measure others, so too live in a way that others may trust you—faithful in word, steadfast in deed, and true in spirit. For trust, once broken, is slow to mend; but trust that is honored becomes the foundation of lifelong bonds.

So let Shelley Long’s wisdom remain as a guiding torch: “Not everyone can be trusted… be selective.” Choose carefully, for your trust is treasure. Do not scatter it before those who would waste it, but do not hoard it so tightly that it blesses no one. Give it to the faithful, and you will find strength, peace, and fellowship that no betrayal can destroy.