For the sum of life is in trifles, and though, in the weightier masses,
A man refuse thee not his purse, nay his all in thine utmost need,
Yet if thou canst not feel that his character agreeth with thine own,
Thou never wilt call him friend, though thou render him a heartful of gratitude.
A coarse man grindeth harshly the finer feelings of his brother;
A common mind will soon depart from the dull companionship of wisdom;
A weak soul dareth not to follow in the track of vigour and decision;
And the worldly regardeth with scorn the seeming foolishness of faith.
A mountain is made up of atoms, and friendship of little matters,
And if the atoms hold not together, the mountain is crumbled into dust.