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"A book of verses underneath the bough, A jug of wine, a loaf of bread-and thou."
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Exlpore more Friendship quotes
"When a sinister person means to be your enemy, they always start by trying to become your friend."
"The final test for a novel will be our affection for it, as it is the test of our friends, and of anything else which we cannot define."
"The only service a friend can really render is to keep up your courage by holding up to you a mirror in which you can see a noble image of yourself."
"To me, re-reading my favorite books is like spending time with my best friends.I'd never be satisfied to limit myself to just one experience each with my favorite people."
"This was what I liked most about my friends: just sitting around and telling stories. Window stories and mirror stories. I only listened - the stories on my mind weren't that funny."
"While conscience is our friend, all is at peace; however once it is offended, farewell to a tranquil mind."
"Many a man who thinks to found a home discovers that he has merely opened a tavern for his friends."
"Marriage is the highest state of friendship. If happy, it lessens our cares by dividing them, at the same time that it doubles our pleasures by mutual participation."
"A light has dawned for me: I need companions, living ones, not dead companions and corpses which I carry with me wherever I wish. But I need living companions who follow me because they want to follow themselves- and who want to go where I want to go."
"I never could get on with representative individuals but people who existed on their own account and with whom it might therefore be possible to be friends."
Explore more quotes by Edward Fitzgerald
"I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head."
"There was the Door to which I found no key; There was the Veil through which I might see."
"Strange, is it not? That of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road Which to discover we must travel too."
"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."
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