. The commonest mistake
we make is that we spread our intercourse over a mass, and have no
depth of heart left. We lament that we have no stanch and faithful
friend, when we have really not expended the love which produces such.
We want to reap where we have not sown, the fatuousness of which we
should see as soon as it is mentioned. "She that asks her dear five
hundred friends" (as Cowper satirically describes a well-known type)
cannot expect the exclusive affection, which she has not given.

The secret of friendship is just the secret of all spiritual blessing.
The way to get is to give. The selfish in the end can never get
anything but selfishness. The hard find hardness everywhere. As you
mete, it is meted out to you.

Some men have a genius for friendship. That is because they are open
and responsive, and unselfish. They truly make the most of life; for
apart from their special joys, even intellect is sharpened by the
development of the affections. No material success in life is
comparable to success in friendship. We really do ourselves harm by
our selfish standards. There is an old Latin proverb,[1] expressing
the worldly view, which says that it is not possible for a man to love
and at the same time to be wise. This is only true when wisdom is made
equal to prudence and selfishness, and when love is made the same.
Rather it is never given to a man to be wise in the true and noble
sense, until he is carried out of himself in the purifying passion of
love, or the generosity of friendship. The self-centred being cannot
keep friends, even when he makes them; his selfish sensitiveness is
always in the way, like a diseased nerve ready to be irritated.

The culture of friendship is a duty, as every gift represents a
responsibility. It is also a necessity; for without watchful care it
can no more remain with us than can any other gift. Without culture it
is at best only a potentiality. We may let it slip, or we can use it
to bless our lives. The miracle of friendship, which came at first
with its infinite wonder and beauty, wears off, and the glory fades
into the light of common day. The early charm passes, and the soul
forgets the first exaltation. We are always in danger of mistaking the
common for the commonplace. We must not look upon it merely as the
great luxury of life, or it will cease to be even that. It begins with
emotion, but if it is to remain it must become a habit. Habit is fixed