—Nicholas Grimoald.
* * * * *
When we have fallen through story after story of our vanity and aspiration, and sit rueful among the ruins, then it is that we begin to measure the stature of our friends; how they stand between us and our own contempt, believing in our best.
—Stevenson.
* * * * *
Reason is the torch of friendship, judgment its guide, tenderness its aliment.
—De Bonald.
* * * * *
Some I remember and will ne'er forget
My early friends, friends of my evil day;
Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too,
Friends given by God in mercy and in love;
My counsellors, my comforters, and guides;
My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy;
Companions of my young desires; in doubt
My oracles; my wings in high pursuit.
Oh, I remember, and will ne'er forget
Our meeting spots, our chosen sacred hours;
Our burning words that utter'd all the soul;
Our faces beaming with unearthly love;
Sorrow with sorrow sighing, hope with hope
Exulting, heart embracing heart entire.
—R. Pollok.