The dead have been awakened — shall I sleep? The worlds at war with tyrants — shall I crouch? the harvests ripe — and shall I pause to reap? I slumber not; the thorn is in my couch; Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear, its echo in my heart. – Lord (George Gordon) Byron

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What men have called friendship is only a social arrangement, a mutual adjustment of interests, an interchange of services given and received it is, in sum, simply a business from which those involved propose to derive a steady profit for their own self-love. – Francois de La Rochefoucauld
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