In life our absent friend is far away: / But death may bring our friend exceeding near.

Of my friends, I am the only one I have left.

In real friendship the judgment, the genius, the prudence of each party become the common property of both.

Friends are fictions founded on some single momentary experience.

I have often said that if I wish to name-drop, I have only to list my ex-friends.

As matron and mistress will differ in temper and tone, so will the friend be distinct from the faithless parasite.

Friendships begin with liking or gratitude—roots that can be pulled up.

I count myself in nothing else so happy / As in a soul remembering my good friends.

Friendship’s a noble name, ’tis love refined.

I am weary of friends, and friendships are all monsters.

Friend! It is a common word, often lightly used. Like other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by careless handling.

We cherish our friends not for their ability to amuse us but for ours to amuse them.

A friend who is very near and dear may in time become as useless as a relative.