Once in a rare lifetime have you ever been in a roomful of people who only helped you when you looked at them, listened to them. this was one of those magic times. I knew it.

if you want to find out who your friends arego to a madhouse or jail.and if you want to find out where love is notbe a perpetual loser.

I didn't know who tobelievebutone thing I doknow: when a man islivingmany claim relationshipsthat are hardlysoand after he dies, well,then it's everybody'sparty.

it does seemthe more we drinkthe better the wordsgo.

He even got up once in English class and read an essay called ‘The Value of Friendship’ and while he was reading it he kept glancing at me. It was a stupid essay, soft and standard, but the class applauded when he finished, and I thought, well, that’s what people think and what can you do about it? I wrote a counter-essay called, ‘The Value of No Friendship At All.’ The teacher didn’t let me read it to the class. She gave me a D.

That is what friendship means. Sharing the prejudice of experience.

If you want to know who your friends are, get yourself a jail sentence.