Quotes About Friendship

I love you, Terese. I always will." Something changed. I could see it in her body language. A stiffening of the spine maybe. The best friend was slipping away. An adversary was coming to the surface.

Mike took the stairs two at a time. He felt a small pang in his knee, an old injury from his hockey days. He'd had it operated on a few months ago by his friend, an orthopedic surgeon named David Gold. He told David that he didn't want to give up hockey and asked him if playing had caused the long-term damage. David gave him a prescription for Percocet and replied: "I don't get a lot of ex-chess players here—you tell me." He

He checked his watch. "One more drink," Win said. "And then I will go in the other room because—oh, you'll love this—Mee so horny." I

Megan looked into Agnes's frightened face. Agnes had been so sharp just a few years back—funny and cutting and wonderfully ribald.

You are the worst sort of friend. You are too scared to help. You will never forget that feeling. Cowardice.

In this life you don't find too many people you can truly count on.

Myron remained unconvinced. "Even if I agreed to go along with this cockamamy scheme, what about nights? You expect me to watch her twenty-four hours a day?" "Of course not. Win will help you there." "Win has better things to do." "Tell that goy boy-toy it's for me," Norm said. "He loves me." A

here, Rocco." "Just stay put," Rocco

Since Kat had to return the Chick Trawler anyway, she and Stacy decided to meet up in the lobby of the Lock-Horne Building. Stacy wore a black turtleneck, sprayed-on blue jeans, and cowboy boots. Her hair cascaded down in ideal just-mussed waves, as if she simply got out of bed, shook her head, and voilà, perfection. If Kat didn't love Stacy, she'd hate her so much. It

I spotted the moving van in front of the Ruskins' old house, turned and—first pow—there she was, my Elizabeth, walking with that titanium spine, so poised, even then, even as a seven-year-old girl with Mary Janes and a friendship bracelet and too many freckles. We

We were broken down into groups of six—mine featured three incoming freshmen and three upperclassmen who had just moved to town. "One

Maybe Jared was sick today. He lived, I knew thanks to Spoon, on the second floor of Barna House. I could go and see if he was there. The other option was to . . . to what? I could go find Ema at the deli, but then it might be harder to come back on campus without a lot of questions. Might

It's about Win," she said. Myron shook his head. "Then it's none of my business." "True enough. But that does not make you immune to responsibility, does it? Win is your friend. I count myself lucky that my son has a friend who cares like you do." Myron said nothing.

So when did you know for sure?" she asked. "I mean, about his, uh, talents. Do you remember?" He did. Too well. "Freshman year, maybe a month into the school year, a bunch of football players decided to shave Win's head. You know how it is. They thought his hair looked too perfect, what with the straight part and the yellow blond and all that." "Right.

A classmate had told Kimberly about the site. You didn't really have to do anything with the guys, she'd been told. They just wanted young girls for the company. Heidi almost laughed out loud at that one. Men, as Heidi knew all too well and Kimberly quickly learned, never really just wanted company. That was merely the loss leader to get you in the store. Heidi

They never liked me." "No, I don't suppose they did." "And Esperanza? Does she still refer to me as Queen Bitch?" "She hasn't so much as mentioned your name in seven years." That made her smile. "Like I'm Voldemort. In the Harry Potter books." "Yep, you're She-who-must-not-be-named." Myron

FJ moved away then. Rocco and Bubba followed. Myron watched them disappear, his heart flapping in his chest like a caged condor.

An old dog traipsed into the room on rigid legs. It looked like he was trying to wag his tail, but the result was a pitiful sway. He managed to lick Myron's hand with a dry tongue.

They walked in the comfortable silence of two men who had known each other a long time and very well.

They are stories I wrote because my friends are gone, a lot of them, and if you can't be angry about it, how the hell much did you care to begin with?

I know that my true friend will appear after my death, and my sweetheart died before I was born.

An den zum Verstummen gebrachten Gestaden eines Gedankens wurde der Papyrusmann von seinem Freund, seinem Henker, dem Prokurator, in den Armen getragen.

We read not only because we cannot know enough people, but because friendship is so vulnerable, so likely to diminish or disappear, overcome by space, time, imperfect sympathies and all the sorrows of familial and passional life.

We discovered in that depressing, hellish place, where death was our constant companion, that we loved each other. We killed for each other, we died for each other, and we wept for each other. And in time we came to love each other as brothers.