#friend

I used to be friends with Miles Davis. He didn't like many folks. I lived across the street from him. ↗

— Rip Torn

#davis #folks #friends #him #i

Are your friends as good as MY friends? I can discern the nod of of assent but doubt it. My own friends are far better, they are famous people and they are all dead. Who, you may ask, are those friends of mine, and why are they dead? It is a fair question. They are dead because, had they lived, they would have died anyway from extreme old age and decrepitude. ↗

— Flann O'Brien

#age

They stood in the courtyard of Swangard Palace, too cold to be comfortable despite the sun, and they looked fully on one another, knowing that they were friends, and would always be. A lot of water under this bridge too, Mark thought, with something like awe. He was growing older. Old enough to feel the current of what had been flowing under him, leading to his future. Old enough to look back over his shoulder, and see his past behind him, and grieve for what was gone, and honour its memory. He felt, suddenly, how much it would hurt him if Val died; felt an echo of that pain, knowing that the Valerian he had known, fluffy and peering and hapless and altogether wonderful: this Valerian was already dying. Not physically, of course, but the man he remembered from that first night in Swangard Palace would be gone the next time they met, though his ghost would linger on in Val forever, and in their memories. Three cheers for ghosts, Mark thought. Three cheers for the dead. Of course Val would be much the same: better, even. As full of wonder and delight, with big pockets full of puzzles and fascinating stories about the lives of ants and ingenious designs for windmills that would do your washing. And they would still be friends, excellent friends. It could even be better next time. But it would never be the same. ↗

— Sean Stewart

#friendship #age

The women ranged in age, but they were all old enough to know that in the currency of friendship, empathy is more valuable than accuracy. ↗

— Erica Bauermeister

#empathy #friendship #women #age

... a true friend has your best interests at heart and the pluck to tell you what you need to hear. ↗

— E.A. Bucchianeri

#friend #friends #friendship #friendship-and-love #friendship-true-and-loyal

I wish I could say we all lived happily ever after. I can't. But I can say we lived. Our love for Nate lives, and he's left us this piece of himself in his art; it was his gift to us. We know him through his art, and I can take comfort in that. I guess the thing about high school is, it's the moment when you start to cross from a being a kid to being an adult, and this journey to know yourself begins. Nate's journey ended to early, and I thought I had to run away to some far-off land to start mine. But, for now, it seems to me that I have enough to explore right here. There's a whole continent to discover in myself, and I know that it's love - love for my parents, my friends, my brother, and my art - that will guide me. Love will be my map. ↗

— Lisa Ann Sandell

#cora #experiences #fondness #friendship #guidance

Hey, Meg," she said without preamble. I need you to write a letter of recommendation for me. I'm applying for grad school." Meghann screamed into the phone. "Oh, my God! I'm so proud of you. I'm hanging up now; I have to draft a letter that makes my best friend sound like da Vinci in a bra and panties. ↗

— Kristin Hannah

#art #friends #reccomendation #art

The art of conversation lies in listening ↗

— Malcolm Forbes

#friendship #listening #art

You pass people on the street, some are for you, some are not. ↗

— Robert Henri

#strangers #art

I mean that everything this afternoon has been too beautiful, and that perhaps everything together will never be so right again. I'm very glad therefore you've been a part of it. ↗

— Henry James

#the-wings-of-the-dove #beauty