We poets would die of loneliness but for women, and we choose our men friends that we may have somebody to talk about women with. Letter to Olivia Shakespeare, 1936

Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

The friends that have I do it wrong Whenever I remake a song, Should know what issue is at stake: It is myself that I remake.

May God be praised for womanThat gives up all her mind,A man may find in no mana friendship of her kind.

Fair and foul are near of kin And fair needs foul," I cried. "My friends are gone, but that's a truth Nor grave nor bed denied."