The man abandoned by his friends, one after another, without just cause, will acquire, the reputation of being hard to please, changeable, ungrateful, unsociable.

We want our friend as a man of talent, less because he has talent than because he is our friend.

Friends are rare for, the good reason that men are not common.

In youth one has tears without grief; in age, griefs without tears

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.

Present unhappiness is selfish; past sorrow is compassionate.

To love is to choose.