“Friends: not one. Just a few acquaintances who imagine they feel something for me and who might be sorry if a train ran over me and the funeral was on a rainy day.”

“You're lucky to have a friend who will kill for you."

So. I once had a friend who died for me, and now one who killed for me. Why didn't I feel lucky?”

“I thought about all the people I knew who spent many of their waking hours feeling sorry for themselves. How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. Just a few tearful minutes, then on with the day.”

“She brightened. "Last week I ran a personal ad in the Guardian. I answered a few too. I'm not looking for sex; I feel too vulnerable for that. I just want somebody to hurt me and humiliate me."”

“Only my books anoint me,
and a few friends,
those who reach into my veins.”

“I imagine, there must be only a very, very few men in the world that I should like to marry; and of those few, it is ten to one I may never be acquainted with one; or if I should, it is twenty to one he may not happen to be single, or to take a fancy to me.”

“For I hope my Friends will pardon me, when I declare, I know none of them without a Fault; and I should be sorry if I could imagine, I had any Friend who could not see mine. Forgiveness, of this Kind, we give and demand in Turn.”

“I feel sorry for players who are always lying awake at night, brooding over their games.”

“Will: "You are not really dying, are you?"

Jem: "So they tell me."

Will: "I am sorry."

Jem: "No. Don’t be ordinary like that. Don’t say you’re sorry. Say you’ll train with me."

Will: "I’ll train with you.”

“Oh rainy day woman,
I've never seem to see you for the good times or the sunshine.
You have been a friend of mine, rainy day woman.”