And for the few that only lend their ear,
That few is all the world.
I do not need any friends. I prefer enemies. They are better company and their feelings towards you are always genuine.
Do I want you to talk to me, old friend? Do I need your reminders, your wry confirmation that faith is for fools?
I want to warn young people who lend their ears to radicals and who play around with the music from Lusaka — they will end up inside the bear's fur coat, but they will no longer be able to live.
Happy will they be who lend ear to the words of the Dead.
I am a stranger. You do not need to lie to me or pretend. Only with friends do you need masks.
You gotta take the easy way out, this is life! Remember, a friend in need is a pest.
No. No no no no. It is not easy. Things that matter are not easy. Feelings of happiness are easy. Happiness is not. Flirting is easy. Love is not. Saying you're friends is easy. Being friends is not.
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O grave! where is thy victory?
O death! where is thy sting?
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.