O friendship! thou fond soother of the human breast, to thee we fly in every calamity; to thee the wretched seek for succor; on thee the care-tired son of misery fondly relies; from thy kind assistance the unfortunate always hopes relief, and may be sure of--disappointment.
Oliver GoldsmithI can't say whether we had more wit among us now than usual, but I am certain we had more laughing, which answered the end as well.
Oliver GoldsmithHe cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them back.
Oliver Goldsmith