When you choose your friends, don't be short-changed by choosing

The words, “When you choose your friends, don’t be short-changed by choosing personality over character,” were spoken by W. Somerset Maugham, the keen observer of the human soul, whose pen carved truth from the quiet hypocrisies of life. In this timeless counsel, Maugham warns of a peril that has ensnared countless hearts: the temptation to be dazzled by personality—by charm, wit, and polish—while neglecting character, that invisible fortress of integrity upon which true friendship must stand. His words are not a condemnation of charisma, but a reminder that what glitters is not always gold, and that a pleasant manner may conceal a hollow spirit.

In the ancient world, the sages often spoke of two kinds of beauty: one of appearance, fleeting as the sunset, and another of virtue, eternal as the stars. Personality, like the beauty of the face, is what the world first sees—it enchants, it amuses, it draws others near. But character is the soul’s architecture, unseen but unshakable, tested by trial and proven by time. A friend of personality may delight you in prosperity, but a friend of character will defend you in adversity. One shines for a moment; the other stands for a lifetime. Thus Maugham’s wisdom strikes like a hammer upon the anvil of discernment: choose not the glittering mask, but the steadfast heart beneath it.

Consider the story of Socrates and Alcibiades, told through the dialogues of Plato. Alcibiades was the darling of Athens—handsome, eloquent, and possessed of irresistible charm. His personality captivated the people; his words swayed crowds as easily as the wind bends grass. Yet beneath the splendor of his presence, his character was weak—ambitious, reckless, and self-serving. Socrates, who saw beyond the surface, warned him that brilliance without virtue leads to ruin. And so it was: Alcibiades rose in glory, betrayed his city, and perished in exile. His personality gained him admirers; his lack of character cost him everything. In contrast, Socrates, humble in demeanor and plain in speech, possessed a moral strength that outlived the centuries. From this tale we learn: it is character that endures when charm decays.

The world will often celebrate those who shine on the surface. The witty, the fashionable, the entertaining—such people attract like the flame attracts the moth. But when hardship strikes, when truth must be spoken or loyalty must be proven, it is not the brightness of personality that saves us—it is the depth of character. The friend of substance may be quieter, slower to speak, less dazzling to the eye—but when storms come, he will hold the line. He will not abandon you when laughter ends, nor flatter you when you err. He will speak truth with love, and stand beside you when the crowd disperses. Such friends are few, but their worth is beyond measure.

Maugham’s insight pierces especially deep in our age, when appearances rule and sincerity is rare. We are surrounded by those who seek to be liked, rather than to be good; who would rather impress the world than improve their soul. Yet the wise man knows that friendship founded on personality is like a house built of sand—it is swept away by the first tide of trouble. But friendship founded on character is a fortress built upon rock—it stands unmoved through years, through sorrow, through silence. To seek such a friend, you must first become such a friend, for like attracts like, and virtue calls to virtue as one star calls to another across the night sky.

Therefore, my child, when you look into the eyes of those you would call friends, look past the smile to the soul. Ask not how entertaining they are, but how honorable. Ask not whether they please your ear, but whether they strengthen your heart. Seek those who keep their word when no one is watching, who treat the humble with the same kindness as the great, who do what is right even when it costs them dearly. These are the souls whose friendship is a blessing and whose presence is a light in dark times.

And remember this above all: personality is a garment; character is the flesh beneath it. The first can be borrowed or feigned, but the second is wrought from truth, sacrifice, and faith. Let not the shimmer of the garment deceive you, for it may hide decay within. Choose friends whose hearts are pure, whose intentions are steadfast, and whose courage is moral rather than social. In their company you will not be short-changed, for you will have traded glitter for gold, illusion for substance, and vanity for virtue.

So live by this wisdom of Maugham: honor character above charm, and depth above display. For though the charm of personality fades like perfume in the wind, the fragrance of character lingers through all the seasons of life. Seek such companions, and you will walk not among admirers, but among kindred spirits—the rarest treasure under heaven.