A Quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
There is no friend like the old friend, who has shared our morning days,
No greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise:
Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold;
But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.
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Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold; But friendship is the rose, with sweets in every fold.
There is no friend like an old friend who has shared our morning days, no greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise.
But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.
Beautiful and rich is an old friendship, Grateful to the touch as ancient ivory, Smooth as aged wine, or sheen of tapestry Where light has lingered, intimate and long. Full of tears and warm is an old friendship That asks no longer deeds of gallantry, Or any deed at all- save that the friend shall be Alive and breathing somewhere, like a song.
I loathe a friend whose gratitude grows old, a friend who takes his friend's prosperity but will not voyage with him in his grief
Truths are immortal, my dear friend; they are immortal like God! What we call a falsity is like a fruit; it has a certain number of days; it is bound to decay. Whereas, what we call truth is like gold; days, months, even centuries can hide gold, can overlook it but they can never make it decay.
A friend cannot be owned That is plain to see Friendships must be shared, Just like our friend, Ruby
So, the gods don't hand out all their gifts at once, not build and brains and flowing speech to all. One man may fail to impress us with his looks but a god can crown his words with beauty, charm, and men look on with delight when he speaks out. Never faltering, filled with winning self-control, he shines forth at assembly grounds and people gaze at him like a god when he walks through the streets. Another man may look like a deathless one on high but there's not a bit of grace to crown his words. Just like you, my fine, handsome friend.
It reminds me of like this pathetic friend that everybody had when they were a little kid who would let you borrow any of his stuff if you would just be his friend. That's what the library is. A government funded pathetic friend.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the 'nay' in your own mind, nor do you withhold the 'ay. And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
My 4-year-old son prays every night for his best friend who is the same age - our next door neighbor in Liberia, a little Liberian boy: 'Dear God, please don't let him get Ebola.' I'm proud of him for thinking about his friend and praying for him but that's not a prayer that a 4-year-old should have to consider.
You don't want to be stopped. But it happens to everybody, like if you bump into an old friend or something. Luckily with an old friend, you can be like, "I'm having a diarrhea attack. Can I call you later?" And you can't really do that with a stranger.
To say that a man is your Friend, means commonly no more than this, that he is not your enemy. Most contemplate only what would be the accidental and trifling advantages of Friendship, as that the Friend can assist in time of need by his substance, or his influence, or his counsel. Even the utmost goodwill and harmony and practical kindness are not sufficient for Friendship, for Friends do not live in harmony merely, as some say, but in melody.
A rose can never be a sunflower, and a sunflower can never be a rose. All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that's like woman too.
DAYS THAT I'LL REMEMBER is a lovingly assembled and beautifully written collection of conversations, observations, and memories of music, friendship, and days gone by. It's good to be back again with John Lennon, his beloved Yoko Ono, and his trusted chronicler and friend Jonathan Cott.
Yesterday, my son was out in the yard playing with his friend, and he hit his friend. I walked up to him, and I said, "Hey... We don't hit". He looked at me like, "Here's your sign, Dad".
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