Some philosophers have devoted time and thought to tracing
backwards all our emotions to their primal origin; and it is
undoubtedly true that in the intensest and most passionate
relationships of life--the love of a man for a woman, or a mother
for a child--there is a large admixture of something physical,
instinctive, and primal. But the fact also remains that there are
unnumbered relationships between all sorts of apparently
incongruous persons, of which the basis is not physical desire, or
the protective instinct, and is not built up upon any hope of gain
or profit whatsoever. All sorts of qualities may lend a hand to
strengthen and increase and confirm these bonds; but what lies at
the base of all is simply a sort of vital congeniality. The friend
is the person whom one is in need of, and by whom one is needed.
Life is a sweeter, stronger, fuller, more gracious thing for the
friend's existence, whether he be near or far: if the friend is
close at hand, that is best; but if he is far away, he is still
there, to think of, to wonder about, to hear from, to write to, to
share life and experience with, to serve, to honour, to admire, to
love.
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