Best 1894 quotes in «friends quotes» category

There’s nothing typical about Genuine Love. To be loved authentically is to be blessed beyond measure. Only a fool would take advantage of something that so many people yearn for.

There's nothing wrong. You are just happy because you met people who see the world differently.

There's supposed to be more value in your life than spending more than sixty hours in a week in a place you don't care about and in an environment they don't care about you.

There’s something special about gathering a few favorite people for a meal. A beautifully set table is the perfect canvas for a delicious meal.

There’s the feisty bitch I know and love. Now come on, it’s time to show Jai and his prick of a dad who the head poncho is around here.” She said giggling, as I slowly let her go and took a step back. “Head poncho, don’t you mean…?” I started before she cut me off. “Shh, let’s just pretend I didn’t say that. Now shift it missy, it’s arse whooping time. Yeehaaa.” She said, making me burst out into laughter. She was right, it was time I showed them who I am.

There was a sudden flash of lightning which brightly illuminated our faces. I squinted against the harsh light. It was soon followed by the crack of thunder. The strong wind whipped our hair around our faces, and the younger girls squealed as they quickly ran across the grass to get inside the school. Rose and I sat up, smiles on our faces as we listened to the weather’s dangerous melody. The third flash of lightning finally ripped open the sky’s belly. Freezing rain cascaded out, drenching us in a matter of seconds, the flower garlands drooping and lying limp on our matted hair.

There was a time when I loved silence, because there was so much of noise of friends, family and other people around that I always needed some time to talk to myself. To think, to be myself. But now things are changed, I got what I needed the much needed silence , now I have so much silence around me that I feel like running from myself, hiding somewhere where I couldn't find myself. In search of some noise. Everything around me is so dead silent that sometimes it feels like a never ending nightmare.

There were so many other people in my life. I had spent all of my time listening, learning the longings we all have in common. I never took the time to hear them in myself and I heard them speaking to him. The desire for desire, that hope for hope, the possibility of everything truly possible. I had so many friends, so many nods and conversations, so many things I’d always wanted to say to someone.

There ya are.” Erik grinned at her as he came bounding down the steps two at a time. He stepped around his statue of a sister as if such a thing were normal. Perhaps here it was. He paused, nodding at Malina. “Morning, banshee.” He gave a small brotherly laugh and poked his thumb toward her face. “She does kind of look like a banshee with her hair flying around like that and her mouth all open. Yeah, ma froze her good. See how her eyes don’t move?” Erik leaned closer to her and grinned as he looked into her mouth. “Ha, Euann put a mint in there.

The role that people play in your life can determine how far you can go.

The rule was that they never went to the same place twice

The sad thing about being good, is people you are good to. Think you are stupid and start abusing your good heart.

The second best thing after a gift itself is the way of giving it

These are the attributes of Bullshit people; they will...blur your imagination, take your endowments for a piece of debris, make you ridiculous, and most importantly, you got to send them to the recycle bin.

The strange thing is, this truly horrifying experience planted a seed deep within my heart that germinated and grew into a desire that, I have to admit, I've never completely overcome.

The strength of your inner circle defines the radius of your achievements

The survival rate of your passion depends on the kind of person that leads you!

The thing is, I never had a friend like Sohrab before. One who understood me without even trying. Who knew what it was like to be stuck on the outside because of one little thing that set you apart.

The truth is - people won't believe you, they won't care for you, they won't give you time or attention, but once you do something that is 'big' in their eyes, you will get it all. Then suddenly you become everyone's friend, everyone seems to have time for you. The people who ignored you earlier will tag you in their posts to gain publicity. And all of a sudden, you become the 'new' inspiration. But the ones who always support you will still call you by your pet name, tease you by those old names and will be there for you like before. The 'key' to life is - knowing who is permanent and who is temporary. The people who are with you in your struggle, are the people who deserve to eat a slice of your success, and the people who are there right after your success, are the ones who should be kept at a distance, for those people would be the first ones to run away if you are in any problem. This life is too short to be lived in any fake fame or publicity. Know your real friends, and know their worth, because if they're lost, the meaning of your life is lost...

The three of you were pretty cute last night, with all that touchy-feely crap." "Yeah, that lasted for about two minutes before you dragged Evan back over to the bar." "Dude, we were hunting Turkey. [drinking bourbon] it was important." Chris grins. "That boy can drink, I'll give him that." "That's big of you. From the way you were hanging off each other by the end of the night, I was thinking I might get Jeff all to myself." Chris shoots him a look. "Is that what you want? If you had your way? Just Jeff?" Dan Isn't really ready to answer that question, not even from Chris. "Wow, you'd switch teams just for me? You'd steal Evan away just so I could take his boyfriend? That's sweet man, really." Dan knows that Chris recognizes the deflection, but he lets Dan get away with it. "That's the kind if friend I am, Dan. Maybe you should take a lesson - the next time I need a wingman in a straight bar, it wouldn't kill you to step up." "Yeah, okay, I'll keep that on mind.

The two of us locked up our own little secrets from the real world. We had experienced countless sleepless nights when we would share our fears, our worries, and our passions; when we would gossip about the school and the other girls. We had played too many pranks and snuck out more than enough times to be expelled if the teachers ever found out. We were professionals at the art of being discreet; however, we had never found sneaking out of a residence necessary, especially when the reason was not to play a prank.

The three most common killers of friendships are betrayal, distance, and growth.

The two of us sat back down in the swing and continued sitting side-by-side the first Day of June; moving to-and-fro in the swing on the front porch. A soothing summer breeze caught a ride on the south wind and blew across our faces. I enjoyed endless days and nights sitting, sighing, lying, walking, and talking alongside my best friend..." Lone Walk From Panther Creek

The two old friends stood silently in the fading light, though you wouldn’t have known it to look at them. That they were old friends, I mean. Anyone could see it was getting dark.

THE UNFORGIVEN Tell me if you've ever had to deal with these kinds of people: The kind who take and don't give. The kind to whom you give and give, And they keep asking. The kind to whom you give and give and they say you gave nothing. The kind whom have never offered anything, But act like they're the ones providing EVERYTHING. The kind you give and give, But take more than you can give. And when they have already taken everything, They get mad at you when you say you have Nothing more to give. The unforgiving, The misgiving, Wastefully living - And selfishly driven. The rat that never gives back, Yet is so quick to attack - Because they think the word TAKING Seriously means GIVING.

They make friends, they laugh, they share They stay in touch, they care.

THE VERITY THAT TWO PEOPLE OUT OF THE MILLIONS AROUND THEM CAN MEET AND ADHERE AND BECOME BOSOM FRIENDS, SEEMS LIKE ENCHANTMENT TO ME. BUT MAINTAINING A FRIENDSHIP REQUIRES (HARD-WORK). I DON'T MEAN THAT AS A BAD THING. GOOD ARTWORK REQUIRES EFFORT AS WELL.

The word friend is a label anyone can try on. You decide who is best suited to wear it. Choose wisely. The most dangerous among us come dressed as angels and we learn too late they are the devil in disguise.

The word in your mouth is anarchy.

They don't sell friends in stores....

The way you remember or dream about your loved ones - the ones who are gone - you can't stop their endings from jumping ahead of the rest of their stories. You don't get to choose the chronology of what you dream, or the order of events in which you remember someone. In your mind - in your dreams, in your memories - sometimes the story begins with the epilogue.

The women glare at each other. Grin. You have friends when you're fifteen years old. Sometimes you get them back.

The world is full of problems and I bet you the problems will continue to exist but what will make you relevant to the world is when you have answers to the questions the world asks. You can only be useful when you have the answers to the questions of the world. The best way you provide solutions and answers to those challenges is through wisdom.

The world is full of 'friends' of suicide victims thinking 'if I had only made that drive over there, I could have done something.

They didn't get the friendships that formed, the community of people who shared in your same joy.

They'll say you are bad or perhaps you are mad or at least you should stay undercover. Your mind must be bare if you would dare to think you can love more than one lover.

They may love you', she whispered, 'but they'll never understand.

The youngest one,” she interrupted. “The youngest son, I mean. The one who is unmarried.” “I know who he is.” “Very well, then. What is wrong with him?” At that she cocked her head to the side and waited expectantly. He thought for a moment. “Nothing.” “You—wait.” She blinked. “Nothing?” He shook his head, then shifted his weight a little; his good foot was beginning to fall asleep. “Nothing comes immediately to mind.” It was true. She could do a good deal worse than Gregory Bridgerton. “Really?” she asked suspiciously. “You find nothing at all objectionable about him.” Marcus pretended to think about this a bit longer. Clearly he was supposed to be playing a role here, probably that of the villain. Or if not that, then the grumpy old man. “I suppose he’s a bit young,” he said.

They seek each other out, these people of such specific like mind. They tell of how they found the circus, how those first few steps were like magic.

They were all becoming brothers, in the manner he had seen before: facing death together was the greatest of levelers.

They weren't making much sense; she decided they were having an argument as old and comfortable as an armchair, the kind of argument that no one ever really wins or loses, but which can go on for ever, if both parties are willing.

They were outcasts. They were a strange, mixed bag created by war, misfortune and contempt. War, misfortune and contempt had brought them together and thrown them onto the bank, the way a river in flood throws and deposits drifting, black pieces of wood smoothed by stones onto its banks.

They were your friends?" "Yes, they were my friends." "And they will leave you to suffer alone?" "Now I see it." "And until this, were they friends you could trust?" "I could trust them." "I see what you mean. You mean they were the kind of friends that a good man could choose, upright, hard-working, obeying the law? Tell me, were they such friends? And now they leave you alone? Did you not see it before?" "I saw it.

They were actually sitting at a table, like two old friends, not like the hunter and the hunted. And it wasn't especially awkward. They were comfortable together, despite the fact that she'd hit him with a bus. Maybe his scheme would work.

They were laughing and their hair was shining like leaves in moonlight, their limbs long as saplings. I thought, Girls are magical at this phase, girls are invincible, nothing can touch them. I didn’t think ‘us’ because I didn’t feel that; I felt other, on the outside, watching them.

They were shiny, shiny people that were bright like light bulbs, but there I stood out like a sore thumb, my dimness flickering self, and they saw it and removed themselves from me, forming their circle of light. Until the night died, they never noticed when the sun broke open its skull of rays, where I laid by the stop sign.

Things change and friends leave and life doesn't stop for anybody

This dress won't fit without a twenty-two-inch waist, although just once I'd like to see you down to twenty.

This is going to seem bitter but I don't mean it that way, V., I'm just stating a fact here: you'll only ever call me if I call you first. Have you noticed that? If I call and leave a message you'll call me back, but you will never call me first. And I think that's kind of a horrible thing, V., when you're supposed to be someone's friend. I always come to you. You always say you're my friend but you'll never come to me and I think I have to stop listening to your words, V., and take stock instead of your actions. My friend C. thinks my expectations of friendship are too high but I don't think he's right. Take care, V. I'll miss you.

This is why people like writing. You visit old friends without having to go on Facebook and see what they're up to and deal with what idiots call FOMO. You make them into what you want them to be, the people they could be if only they were braver, smarter.