Quotes & Sayings About Leaning On Your Friends

Perhaps,' she said, leaning forward a little, 'you will tell me your name. If we are to be friends' - she smiled her grave smile - 'as I hope we are, we had better begin at the beginning. — Elizabeth Von Arnim

You enjoy solitude?" she asked, leaning her cheek on her hand. "Traveling alone, eating alone, sitting off by yourself in lecture halls ... "
"Nobody likes being alone that much. I don't go out of my way to make friends, that's all. It just leads to disappointment."
The tip of one earpiece in her mouth, sunglasses dangling down, she mumbled, "'Nobody likes being alone. I just hate to be disappointed.' You can use that line if you ever write your autobiography."
"Thanks," I said.
"Do you like green?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You're wearing a green polo shirt."
"Not especially. I'll wear anything."
"'Not especially. I'll wear anything.' I love the way you talk. Like spreading plaster nice and smooth. Has anybody ever told you that?"
"Nobody," I said. — Haruki Murakami

I shrugged uncomfortably, leaning my head against hers, almost forgetting Mr. Gardner's presence as Mo and I fell into that sort of exclusionary, near-telepathic best-friends communion. She knew that I would argue that I wasn't ashamed, but that I hadn't quite figured out how to truly mean it when I held my head up high. My entire life, people had been telling me to keep it down and stop being an embarrassment. So, I was still in that "fake it 'til you make it" stage, hoping genuine pride would come if I pretended confidence long enough. For now, I was relying on bravado and a complete lack of give-a-fuck to carry me through. — Amelia C. Gormley

Giving up all pretense of obeying natural laws again, I see," he said. "Natural laws?" Syl said, finding the concept amusing. "Laws are of men, Kaladin. Nature doesn't have them!" "If I toss something upward, it comes back down." "Except when it doesn't." "It's a law." "No," Syl said, looking upward. "It's more like . . . more like an agreement among friends." He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "We have to be consistent," she said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Or we'll break your brains. — Brandon Sanderson

I felt part of a group for the first time in my life. Not a family, just a group of people who liked being together, who sat as we did, leaning towards each other, leaving just the right amount of space in between, whose thoughts and words flowed easily and naturally, whose voices and accents were so different from each other and yet mingled in harmony as though in a song. — Indu Muralidharan

These women lived their lives happily. They had been taught, probably by loving parents, not to exceed the boundaries of their happiness regardless of what they were doing. But therefore they could never know real joy. Which is better? Who can say? Everyone lives the way she knows best. What I mean by 'their happiness' is living a life untouched as much as possible by the knowledge that we are really, all of us, alone. That's not a bad thing. Dressed in their aprons, their smiling faces like flowers, leaning to cook, absorbed in their little troubles and perplexities, they fall in love and marry. I think that's great. I wouldn't mind that kind of life. Me, when I'm utterly exhausted by it all, my skin breaks out, on those lonely evenings when I call my friends again and again and nobody's home, then I despise my own life - my birth, my upbringing, everything. I feel only regret for the whole thing. — Banana Yoshimoto

You told me this wasn't a formal date when you invited me to come. Why should I care if you have a girlfriend?"
"Absolutely," he said, giving me a fake-serious look. "Yeah, you and I are just friends ... out for a friendly walk. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Exactly!" I agreed, my heart giving a painful twist.
He broke into a large grin and, leaning over, kissed me on the cheek. "Kate," he whispered, "you are way too gullible. — Amy Plum

Stay down if you know what's good for you." Colin said. He put his foot on the man's neck and applied a little weight.
The man coughed into the dirt. "Who...who are you?"
Who am I?" Colin replied. He had been waiting for this moment. "I'm the the one bogeyman is afraid of. I'm the new face of justice. I'm your worst nightmare."
He crouched down, leaning closer to the man. "You'd better warn the rest of your low-life friends that there's a new hero in town. You and your kind wont be tolerated any longer."
Colin stood up and folded his arms. He wished there was a breeze that would make his cape fly a little. "Who am I? I am Titan."
And that was when one of the other muggers hit Colin across the back of his head with a plank of wood. — Michael Carroll

Look, Charlie," said Vince leaning back in his chair. "It's real simple. We will be four people
two men and two women
I figure it's better to have two women instead of three men and one woman so she'll have someone she can confide in and all. Women need that kind of thing. Anyway, we'll be four people
friends
housemates
equal partners. We'll be an alliance. We'll be just like family. And we'll help take care of one another. We'll have a nice home, each with our own private bedroom and bathroom, and a nice yard with flowers."
"And maybe a vegetable garden," added Charlie.
"That's it," grinned Vince. — Barbara Casey

You know, Ellsworth,' Keating said, leaning forward, happy in an uneasy kind of way, 'I'd rather talk to you than do anything else, anything at all. I had so many places to go tonight
and I'm so much happier sitting here with you. Sometimes I wonder how I'd ever go on without you.'
'That,' said Toohey, 'is as it should be. Or else what are friends for? — Ayn Rand

No," said Simon. "I know we're not much compared to you, but we don't kill our friends. We try to save them. If Heaven didn't want it that way, we ought to have been given the ability to love." He shoved his hair back, baring the Mark more fully. "No, you don't need to help me. But if you don't, there's nothing stopping me from calling you up again and again, now that I know you can't kill me. Think of it as me leaning on you Heavenly doorbell ... forever. — Cassandra Clare

When Victor was making Skype calls for work, I'd silently crawl up behind him and have Rory slowly and menacingly rise up over Victor's shoulder until the person on the call froze because they noticed a mentally unbalanced raccoon was leaning in like a furry, eavesdropping serial killer. Then Victor would realize Rory was behind him and he'd sigh that sigh he does so well and remind himself to lock his office door. If anything, though, Victor should have thanked me, because the perfect test to see if your friends and coworkers really have your back is if they're willing to say, "Hey, there's a raccoon creeping on you. — Jenny Lawson

Listen to me, you little idiot," Sin hissed, leaning forward until his nose nearly touched hers. "You and your friends nearly got me killed, and someone else is in danger because of you oblivious, drug addicted morons bringing us to the attention of a bunch of fanatic psychopaths. So tell me what you know or I will rip your fucking jugular open with my teeth."
"There's my boy," Emilio said proudly, grinning.
"Shut the fuck up," Sin didn't even look at the other man. — Santino Hassell

My name is Chloe Saunders. I'm fifteen, and I would love to be normal.
But normal is one thing I'm not.
For one thing, I'M HAVING THESE FEELINGS FOR A CERTAIN ANTISOCIAL WEREWOLF and his sweet-tempered brother - who just happens to be a sorcerer - BUT,BETWEEN YOU AND ME, I'M LEANING TOWARD THE WEREWOLF.
Not normal.
My friends and I are also on the run from an evil corporation that wants to get rid of us - permanently.
Definitely not normal.
And finally, I'm a genetically altered necro-mancer who can raise the dead, rotting corpses and all, without even trying.
As far away from normal as it gets. — Kelley Armstrong

We pick up our shots and for the first time there's a total absence of sound in the room. From the ceiling, shy silver things blink and wait. Dennis doesn't sit, but hovers at the edge of the table, leaning in with a darkroom perfected slump. His hair hangs like its edges were dipped in lead. Thin spears pointing to the table. I'm looking at his face; we're both serious in a self-aware way, pretending not to notice.

"It doesn't even feel like I left. God, you look fucking terrible. But it's a terrible face that drinks tequila well. Down. And cheers."

We force a dull clash of cups and pour everything down at once. The hard tequila shudders that never happen in the movies. First your head feels light, then it starts receiving the distress signals from throat, lungs, belly. Your shoulders jerk to shake off the snake that wrapped around you and squeezed. It burns. The good burn. — Laurie Perez