From the heart of a friend

by Unknown

The tide of friendship does not rise high on the banks of perfection. Amiable weaknesses and shortcomings are the food of love. It is from the roughness and imperfect breaks in a man that you are able to lay hold of him. My friend is not perfect—no more am I—and so we suit each other admirably.

—Smith.

Old friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air;

Love them for what they are; nor love them less,

Because to thee they are not what they were.

—Coleridge.