Quotes About Friendship

To H.S. Boyd Monday, September 19, 1843. My own dear Friend, — I should have written instantly to explain myself out of appearances which did me injustice, only I have been in such distress as to have no courage for writing. Flush was stolen away, and for three days I could neither sleep nor eat, nor do anything much more rational than cry.

As for poor dear Miss Mitford's book, I was entirely upset by the biography she thought it necessary or expedient to give of me. Oh, if our friends would but put off anatomising one till after one was safely dead, and call to mind that, previously, we have nerves to be agonised and morbid brains to be driven mad!

Generous people are inclined to acquit generously; but it has been very painful to me to observe that with all my mere friends I have found more sympathy and trust, than in those who are of my own household and who have been daily witnesses of my life.

Chancing to express his admiration of them to Mr. Kenyon, who had been his friend since 1839 and his father's school-fellow in years long distant, Mr. Browning was urged by him to write to Miss Barrett himself, and tell her of his pleasure in her work.

She is connected by marriage with Mrs. A.T. Thompson, and from a friend of Mrs. Thompson's it came to me, and really seems to exonerate Chapman & Hall from the charge advanced against them. 'Mary Barton' was shown in manuscript to Mrs. Thompson, and failed to please her;

At the end of May, when the return of summer brought her a renewal of strength, they met face to face for the first time; and from that time Robert Browning was included in the small list of privileged friends who were admitted to visit her in person.

Well, then, I am getting deeper and deeper into correspondence with Robert Browning, poet and mystic, and we are growing to be the truest of friends.

Perhaps she doesn't care for anybody by this time — who knows? She wrote one, or two, or three kind notes to me, and promised to 'venir m'embrasser' before she left Paris; but she did not come. We both tried hard to please her, and she told a friend of ours that she 'liked us'; only we always felt that we couldn't penetrate — couldn't really touch her — it was all vain.

Stud males might be emotional, temperamental, and developmentally stunted, at the mercy of their androgens, but that didn't make them incapable of generosity, friendship, cleverness, or creativity.

Friends don't keep score." Because friends don't have to keep score, my da would of said. Friends just pitch in as needed, as they can.

Though I am otherwise relentlessly normal, I have one peculiarity: I get along well only with people who are smarter than me.

Tristen had been only half kidding. Samael's expression hinted that the angel had the other half. Tristen guessed that added up to one complete sense of humour between them.

A companionable hand on his shoulder made him shiver.

The Elf-knight stepped forward and Will went with him.

Richard Baines turned his back at the sound of stones shifting and held up on meaty hand to help over the rocks, handing him down like a lady out of a carriage.

Her name was Niyara, and she had green eyes, and she said she loved me. She said she was my best friend, that I was family to her. She said a lot of things.

Cricket-Fisher-was starting to prefer her new name. Especially the way Nouel said it, with a little twinkle, as if it were a joke shared.

The improvised weapon in his hand, the comfort of his friend at his side were all the strength he needed.

What about thy Prince? Or the Fae Queen who come to muse thee in thine illness?" "My Prince?" Will smiled at Tom. "Kit's Prince, you mean. You know, I rather suspect he's watching us now: I would be, were I in his place.

My new friend paced alongside on six slender legs, the two deadly looking raptorial manipulators folded against its forethorax, the more delicate ones waving gently in the air.

Oh, Ellie. You are still so slick. Patty lost as much as the rest of us. More. Here we are, and love each other, and links forged in shared fire. And Patty's got herself and the voices in her head.

Elspeth chuckles, that half-swallowed ironic laugh I've got so fond of, and lowers her voice.

Still perfect sixteen, and she glares when Ellie and I burst out laughing.

The wine was finished; the night's conversation drifted into sitting and dozing, watching the night.