November 1, 2013 chris
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Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.

There are big ships and small ships. But the best ship of all is friendship.

The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like that was the best conversation you’ve had.

I like friends who, when you tell them you need a moment alone, know enough not to stray too far.

The language of friendship is not words but meanings.

A true friend is one who thinks you are a good egg even if you are half-cracked.

Friends are kisses blown to us by angels.

It is the friends you can call up a 4 a.m. that matter.

Cherish the friend who tells you a harsh truth, wanting ten times more to tell you a loving lie.

Nothing but heaven itself is better than a friend who is really a friend.

A real friend is someone who would feel lost if you jumped on a train, or in front of one.

Silences make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying but the never needing to say is what counts. 

Our most difficult task as a friend is to offer understanding, then you try to understand.

It takes a long time to grow an old friend.

Before borrowing money from a friend, decide which you need the most. 

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.

A true friend reaches for you hand and touches your heart.

Friendship is a sheltering tree.

We are keenly aware of the faults of our friends, but if they like us enough it doesn’t matter.

What do we ask of friendship except to be taken for what we pretend to be—and without having to pretend.