Quarrel? Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. If one is not to get into a rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends?

Friendships begin with liking or gratitude — roots that can be pulled up.

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away. -George Eliot.

Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words.

On the contrary, having the amiable vanity which knits us to those who are fond of us, and disinclines us to those who are indifferent, and also a good grateful nature, the mere idea that a woman had a kindness towards him spun little threads of tenderness from out his heart towards hers.

Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in which there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal liking