Friends, both the imaginary ones you build for yourself out of phrases taken from a living writer, or real ones from college, and relatives, despite all the waste of ceremony and fakery and the fact that out of an hour of conversation you may have only five minutes in which the old entente reappears, are the only real means for foreign ideas to enter your brain.
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- Until a friend or relative has applied a particular proverb to your own life, or until you’ve watched him apply the proverb to his own life, it has no power to sway you.
- The force of truth that a statement imparts, then, its prominence among the hordes of recorded observations that I may optionally apply to my own life, depends, in addition to the sense that it is argumentatively defensible, on the sense that someone like me, and someone I like, whose voice is audible and who is at least notionally in the same room with me, does or can possibly hold it to be compellingly true.
- In my case, adulthood itself was not an advance, although it was a useful waymark.
- Footnotes are the finer-suckered surfaces that allow testicular paragraphs to hold fast to the wider reality of the library.
- The imaginary friends I had as a kid dropped me because their friends thought I didn’t exist.
- Man strives for glory, honor, fame, so that all the world may know his name. Amasses wealth by brain and hand. Becomes a power in the land. But when he nears the end of life and looks back over the years of strife. He finds that happiness depends on none of these but love of friends.