Quotes About Friendship

Thank thee, Will. In mine extremity, I know I could trust in thee.

He laid a hand on Ian's shoulder and squeezed; Ian gave him a wry sideways look.

Sebastien wondered if David knew he hadn't touched another of his kind since they parted company, more than a century ago.

Just because I don't care for the prowl myself doesn't mean I can't be a pretty good wingperson.

She smiled and leaned on him. It would have been nice to earn that smile. Nice to feel the trust, the partnership, the old friendship they had had. Nice to smile back, to reach out, and take her hand.

Kit bumped Matthew with his shoulder, the way, once upon a time, he might have nudged another friend.

Patty's mouth twisted; her expression said creepy kid, but Genie was too lonely to get up and leave, even if she knew Patty didn't want her there.

His pilots. And no, frankly, just his pathway to other worlds, but personal friends, all three of them.

Blinking, startled, as if he had utterly forgotten the Elf-Knight's existence, Kit turned away from the mortal men and hurried to Murchaud's side. Kit pulled Murchaud upright, checking his injuries with a fussiness that left Will tasting bile and jealousy.

Goddamn it, I am sick of watching people I like get killed. I like get killed. I am even sicker of getting people I like killed. It's not an acquired taste, let me tell you, every drink is bitter as the last. And they never get easier to swallow.

He gestured to the raven, who seemed quite content to nestle against the curve of Will's neck.

I had a giant bug to help me. (In all honesty I was probably the sidekick in this equation. But it makes me feel better to pretend otherwise.)

Hast made the acquaintance of thy friend Edward the Second's ghost yet, pussycat? They tell me he still screams.

Muire really needed to stop taking in candle-flicker strays. She tried, Light knew: she held herself aloof, didn't place calls, avoided social engagements. Sh didn't take lovers. She didn't need friends. She especially didn't need friends who would inevitably break her heart with their fragility, their evanescence, the shadow-quick passing of their mortal lives.

Vincent stood, all lithe grace, and let his hand rest warmly on Michelangelo's shoulder.

The Republican pirate was charismatic in a way that reached right past all the rightminding safe-guards on my emotions and hormones and made me want to know her better and bond and be best friends with her forever.

Marlowe patted Matthew on the shoulder, and Matthew found himself grinning in naked relief; notorious rakehell, sodomite, and playboy he might be remembered as, but lately Christopher Marlowe was the only person who seemed willing to touch Matthew without some implication lying predatory behind it.

I hadn't realized how much I'd been needing to meet someone I might be able to say everything to.

I noticed that no matter where I went in the country, there was this group of questions that got asked. I would track them and keep them in categories. Like body image, school, family, friendship, you name it, the emotional life of a teenage girl.

Did his own need, too barely exposed, burn friendship out? Or was he one of those unfortunates who were quite unaware of some element in themselves which repelled intimacy and blighted emotional response? After all, the ability to form satisfying personal relationships did not lie with everyone. It was part instinct, part luck, part hard work, endless unselfish giving. Hope. Loyalty.

Intimacies between women often go backwards, beginning in revelations and ending in small talk.

Absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends.

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.

He was not sprightly enough to have sprightly friends.