"Navajo men and boys have an odd way of showing their friendship. When two young men meet at the trading post, a "Sing", or a dancethey greet each other, inquire about the health of their respective families, then stand silently some ten or fifteen minutes while one feels the other's arms, shoulders, and chest."
"Friends, both the imaginary ones you build for yourself out of phrases taken from a living writer, or real ones from college, andrelatives, despite all the waste of ceremony and fakery and the fact that out of an hour of conversation you may have only five minutes in which the old entente reappears, are the only real means for foreign ideas to enter your brain."
"Do you know why I came to you, Amy? Why I came to be your friend? Because you called to me. Out of your loneliness you called me and brought me into being. And I came, so that your childhood could be bright and full of friendliness. Now you must send me away.... You'll remember me for a while, mourn a little, but then you'll forget. And that is as it should be."
"My revered friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond by letters. I said, "I hope, Sir, you will not forget me in my absence." JOHNSON. "Nay, Sir, it is more likely you should forget me than that I should forget you." As the vessel put out to sea, I kept my eyes upon him for a considerable time while he remained rolling his majestic frame in his usual manner; and at last I perceived him walk back into the town, and he disappeared."
"Friendship, "the wine of life," should, like a well-stocked cellar, be continually renewed; and it is consolatory to think, that although we can seldom add what will equal the generous first growths of our youth, yet friendship becomes insensibly old in much less time than is commonly imagined, and not many years are required to make it mellow and pleasant. Warmth will, no doubt, make a considerable difference. Men of affectionate temper and bright fancy will coalesce a great deal sooner than those who are cold and dull."
"Had his other friends been as diligent and ardent as I was, he might have been almost entirely preserved. As it is, I will ventureto say that he will be seen in this work more completely than any man who has ever yet lived."
"The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends. The friend becomes a traitor by breaking, however unwillingly or sadly, out of our own zone: a hard judgment is passed on him, for all the pleas of the heart."