Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit.

Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.

Without wearing any mask we are conscious of, we have a special face for each friend.

The language of friendship is not words but meanings.

But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.

A man cannot be said to succeed in this life who does not satisfy one friend.

A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down.

Friendship, like the immortality of the soul, is too good to be believed.

Friendship is the source of the greatest pleasures, and without friends even the most agreeable pursuits become tedious.

The friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you.