friendship

Approaching the trail, he broke through the thicket a short distance ahead of the Empath. Causing the Empaths horse to startle as the surprised rider jerked on the reins. Cap was equally surprised to find a young girl before him instead of an older, experienced male Empath. Cap brought his horse to a quick halt. The young girl pulled a small knife from her boot and cautioned him. "I don't know where you came from, but I'm not easy prey._ Her voice shook slightly with fear as she raised the knife.Not sure how to proceed, they stared silently at each other. Cap had always believed that Empaths didn't carry weapons. This pretty, chestnut haired girl couldn't be more than 18 years old. Her long straight tresses covered the spot on her jacket where the Empathic Emblem was usually worn, causing Cap to doubt she was the one he sought. Not wanting to frighten her any more than he already had, Cap tried to explain. "I'm Commander Caplin Taylor. I__ looking for an Empath that is headed for the Western Hunting Lodge._"My name is Kendra; I am the Empath you seek._ She answered cautiously, still holding the blade. A noise from the brush drew her attention as a small rodent pounced out, trying to evade an unseen predator. Cap was just close enough to lurch forward and snatch the dirk from her hand. Her head jerked back in alarm."Bosen May has been mauled by a Sraeb, his shoulder is a mass of pulp." Cap spoke quickly not wanting to hesitate any longer.That was all Kendra needed to hear. She pushed her horse past him and headed quickly down the trail."Wait!" Cap called after her, turning his horse around. Reining in the horse, she turned back to face him annoyed by the delay. "Are you a good horseman?" Cap asked, as he stuffed her dirk in his jacket."I've been in the saddle since I was a child." She answered, abruptly."Okay so just a few years then?" Cap's rebuke angered her. Jerking the horse back toward the trail, she ignored him."Wait, I'm sorry!" Cap called after her. "It's just that I know a quicker way, if you can handle some rough terrain.""Let__ go then." Kendra replied, gruffly, turning back to face him. Without another word, Cap dove back into the brush and the girl followed.

The mortality rate of literary friendships is high. Writers tend to be bad risks as friends ~ probably for much the same reasons that they are bad matrimonial risks. They expend the best parts of themselves in their work. Moreover, literary ambition has a way of turning into literary competition; if fame is the spur, envy may be a concomitant.

We put on a pot of tea, a necessity between these two writing friends. Wecould no more imagine writing without this hot sustenance than we couldwithout pen and paper. We sat at the table to talk shop, sort through ournotes, and make plans for the book. Then we settled down in the sunroom,giggling a little at the unexpected absurdity of our activity, editingwithin arm__ reach of each other, like toddlers at parallel play.

I soon forgot about my bedraggled appearance. Until, that is, an old man shuffled in and propped himself, hunched and wheezing, over the check-in desk. Karen asked him if he needed assistance. __o,_ he grunted sucking on his teeth, __our wet-T-shirt librarian with the punk rock hair is helping me out just fine.

The __oons had enjoyed a real party, and my trashcan had been the piñata! They__ obviously indulged in an evening of feasting on our wares and then staggered off the property loaded up with our birdseed as a little take-home gift!

The face that greeted me, however, was far from welcoming, it was a miniature stick insect of a woman with wiry white hair and enormous glasses that emphasized her heavily wrinkled face. She blinked twice and looked me up and down. By the look on her face, she wasn__ that impressed with what she saw. __ho is it, Ethel?__he responded, __t__ some homeless woman. She looks like she needs money and a good wash._ And I thought I__ already reached the lowest point of my day.

Happy is the soul that has a friend. Happier is the soul that trusts in the truth of the heart of a friend. Happiest is the soul that knows the solemnity of friendship and honours its laws.

...we so resented that asshole up there talking talking talking taking up the entire assembly expecting us to believe there isn't a special creation of God, or of man, to which we didn't belong, here in the shabby south end of Hammond in the worst damn public school in the district, we didn't belong and never would. And what the hell? ---Such truths, FOXFIRE made softer.

No my friend, darkness is not everywhere, for here and there I find faces illuminated from within; paper lanterns among the dark trees.

Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing.

Friendship is thinking of the other person first.

Max." Fang let go of my hand. "Right now, it's really all about__s." He swooped down to the right in a big semicircle, ending facing me. Slowly we climbed upward, until we were almost vertical, flying straight up to the sun. While carefully synchronizing our wings__hey almost touched__ang leaned in, gently put one hand behind my neck, and kissed me. It was just about as close to heaven as I'll ever get, I guess. I closed my eyes, lost in the feeling of flying and kissing and being with the one person in the world I completely,utterly trusted. When we finally broke apart, we looked down at the others, who were way far below us now. Angel was shading her eyes, looking up at us with a big smile. She was sitting on a dolphin's back, and I hoped soon someone would explain to the dolphin that he shouldn't let Angel take advantage of his good nature. Still looking up at us, Angel gave us a big thumbs-up. "She approves," Fang said with a hint of amusement."Jeez," I wondered aloud. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

To like many people spontaneously and without effort is perhaps the greatest of all sources of personal happiness.

Soul connections are not often found and are worth every bit of fight left in you to keep.

Not so long ago we were all a tightly knit group of friends. Too bad someone had ripped apart the stitches that held us together, unraveling the cozy blanket of our friendship and leaving just enough strands to hang ourselves with.

He kept quite for a minute or so but it felt like an hour. __hat sounds like either you know a lot of diseased and ill people or they__e just ill or dead because of you.___ know,_ I said and felt like a monster.

Jacob glanced across at the woman. 'She'd have you for breakfast, mate.''Yeah,' Luca countered, 'maybe I want to be had for breakfast.

Jake's in trouble.'Luca rolled his eyes. 'What now?''He's gone off somewhere, I think I know where, and I don't think it's good.''Cant that boy ever stay in and watch telly like the rest of us?