Quotes About Camaraderie

The Singh Brothers are good. I've actually known them for a long time.

I used to fight every week. Me and my friends used to fight each other, bare knuckle, but then we would be friends that same day. That was our entertainment, though.

Kobe was like a brother to me, for sure.

Kurt Vonnegut and I - it's not an exaggeration to say we were best friends. And I grew up just idolizing him.

There are more balls in twenty feet of street here than there are in all of Dublin, and I'm proud to be swaying in the nut sack. We might fight each other, but in times of danger, we'll fight together. Dude!

Nicht wahr, Pitt Holbers, altes Coon?

I have made some of the best friends that I've got in this business.

In this world, everyone is friends with everyone else. In a way.

What I think you should consider...is the rarity of finding a playmate.

They had become instant best friends in the way people can in their twenties.

We were both chumps. But you know what? It's not so bad when you're chumps together.

If you look at the opening of 'Private Ryan ' you are so in the point of view of those guys and there is a whole world swirling all around them. You are learning that geography as they are learning it.

I enjoyed being involved in team sports and making close friendships.

But the miracle of the spirit which takes thousands of young men, ties them together in strange self-forgetfulness, and enables them to walk steadfastly and without faltering into the certainty of pain and death was wearing very thin.

It was time to call on my old paisan Steve Van Zandt.

He at once resolved to accompany me to that island, ship aboard the same vessel, get into the same watch, the same boat, the same mess with me, in short to share my every hap; with both my hands in his, boldly dip into the Potluck of both worlds.

I'd have ye hold a canakin to the jet, and we'd drink round it! Yea, verily, hearts alive, we'd brew choice punch in the spread of his spout-hole there, and from that live punch-bowl quaff the living stuff.

As for Men-of-War, when they chance to meet at sea, they first go through such a string of silly bowings and scrapings, such a ducking of ensigns, that there does not seem to be much right-down hearty good-will and brotherly love about it at all. As

Say you strike a Forty-barrel-bull—poor devil! all his comrades quit him. But strike a member of the harem school, and her companions swim around her with every token of concern, sometimes lingering so near her and so long, as themselves to fall a prey.

Remember: You'll be left with an empty feeling if you hit the finish line alone. When you run a race as a team, though, you'll discover that much of the reward comes from hitting the tape together. You want to be surrounded not just by cheering onlookers but by a crowd of winners, celebrating as one.

He gave my hand a final shake. "Okay, Kemp," he said with a grin. "Thanks a lot – you came through like a champ." "Hell," I said, starting the engine. "We're all champs when we're drunk.

On the way down the hill we walked three abreast in the cobblestone street, drunk and laughing and talking like men who knew they would separate at dawn and travel to the far corners of the earth.

The Hell's Angels as a group are often willfully stupid, but they are not without savoir-faire, and their predilection for travelling in packs is a long way from being all showbiz. Nor is it entirely due to warps and defects in their collective personality.

A girl half my age swept by and slammed two giant tankard filled with beer on the table. Ragnvald held his up. I smashed my tankard against his. Beer splashed. We raised the tankard and pretended to take much bigger gulps than we did.