True friendship is like sound health; the value of it is seldom

Charles Caleb Colton once wrote, “True friendship is like sound health; the value of it is seldom known until it is lost.” In this line, simple yet profound, Colton draws a parallel between two of life’s greatest treasures — friendship and health — both often taken for granted, both felt most deeply when they are gone. He reminds us that the truest blessings are not always the loudest ones; they dwell quietly in the background of our days, giving strength and meaning to life without demanding praise. Like the steady pulse of the body that sustains us unnoticed, the steady presence of a friend nourishes the soul until, in its absence, we feel the ache of what we failed to cherish.

Colton, an English clergyman and essayist of the early nineteenth century, wrote in a time when the art of reflection was prized. His words, though centuries old, touch upon a truth eternal. He observed the world keenly — its vanities, its follies, its fleeting attachments — and understood that human beings, by nature, rarely value what endures. We chase new delights, we measure worth by novelty, and we often overlook the quiet constants that hold our lives together. So it is with health, and so it is with true friendship. Both are invisible in their perfection and painfully visible in their loss.

To understand his wisdom, consider the life of Cicero, the Roman orator and philosopher. In his dialogue Laelius de Amicitia, he wrote passionately of friendship as “the greatest gift of the gods.” Yet Cicero himself learned this truth in sorrow. His beloved friend, Laelius, died suddenly, leaving him bereft. It was only after his loss that Cicero truly grasped the depth of what he had possessed — the counsel, the laughter, the shared spirit that had made his triumphs sweeter and his burdens lighter. Like a man recovering from illness who remembers what it was to breathe freely, Cicero looked back on the wholeness that friendship had once given him and found in its memory both grief and gratitude.

So too do we often live unmindful of our friendships — until life’s tempests sweep them away. We may take a friend’s patience for granted, neglect a kind word, delay a meeting, or assume that understanding will always wait for us. But when distance or silence grows, when misunderstandings harden or death draws its veil, the heart awakens too late to what it once possessed. Then the value of friendship shines like health regained after sickness — bright, healing, and bittersweet. It is a sorrow that humbles and teaches: that love must be honored while it breathes, not mourned when it is gone.

Yet Colton’s comparison is not meant to sadden, but to awaken. It is a call to mindfulness, a reminder to live with gratitude for the unseen gifts that make us whole. Just as the wise tend their health through moderation and care, so must the wise tend their friendships through attention and sincerity. A kind word, a listening ear, a moment of forgiveness — these are the nourishment that keeps the spirit of friendship alive and strong. For just as the body weakens through neglect, so too does companionship fade when starved of affection.

There is also a deeper lesson hidden within Colton’s metaphor: both health and friendship are living things, not possessions to be stored away, but relationships to be continually renewed. You cannot hold them by force; you can only sustain them by care. The friendship that endures is the one built upon truth, patience, and shared trust — not the fleeting alliance of convenience, but the abiding bond that weathers both joy and sorrow. Such friendship, once lost, leaves a silence so profound it echoes through every part of the soul.

Therefore, let this teaching be engraved upon your heart: do not wait for absence to awaken appreciation. When you find a true friend — one who knows your weaknesses and still stands beside you — treat that bond as sacred. Speak your gratitude while there is still time. Write to those who have grown distant; reconcile before the dusk falls. Cherish laughter when it comes easily, and lend comfort when it does not. In doing so, you will guard not only your friendships but also your own peace of spirit.

And when you rise each day, remember Colton’s wisdom: health and friendship are the quiet pillars of a joyful life. They ask for little but mean everything. To care for them is to live wisely; to lose them is to understand too late what life was meant to be. So live in gratitude, nurture your bonds, and let no moment pass without kindness — for in the end, it is these simple acts of care that keep both the body and the heart alive.