Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul!
Sweet'ner of life, the solder of society!
I owe thee much. Thou hast deserved of me
Far, far beyond whatever I can pay.
Oft have I proved the labors of thy love,
And the warm efforts of the gentle heart
Anxious to please. O! when my friend and I
In some thick wood have wander'd heedless on,
Hid from the vulgar eye, and sat us down
Upon the sloping cowslip-covered bank,
Where the pure limpid stream has slid along,
In grateful errors through the under-wood,
Sweet murmurings, methought the shrill-tongued thrush
Mended his song of love; the sooty blackbird
Mellow'd his pipe, and soften'd every note;
The eglantine smell'd sweeter, and the rose
Assumed a dye more deep.
O! then the longest summer's day
Seem'd too, too much in haste: still the full heart
Had not imparted half: 'tis happiness
Too exquisite to last!
—Blair.
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Friendship was given us by nature as the handmaid of virtues, and not as the companion of our vices.
—Cicero.
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Friendships, like trees, bring forth fruit after their kind. Corrupt friendships, corrupt fruit; good friendship, good fruit.
—Diggle.
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Friendship is usually treated by the majority of mankind as a tough and everlasting thing which will survive all manner of bad treatment. But this is an exceedingly great and foolish error; it may die in an hour of a single unwise word.