In general, American social life constitutes an evasion of talking to people. Most Americans don't, in any vital sense, get together; they only do things together.

While you are alone you are entirely your own master and if you have one companion you are but half your own, and the less so in proportion to the indiscretion of his behavior.

"Love or perish" we are told and we tell ourselves. The phrase is true enough so long as we do not interpret it as "Mingle or be a failure."

An ancient father says that a dog we know is better company than a man whose language we do not understand.

At the heart of our friendly or purely social relations, there lurks a hostility momentarily cured but recurring by fits and starts.

An agreeable companion on a journey is as good as a carriage.

Society in shipwreck is a comfort to all.

To have the universe bear one company would be a great consolation in death.

Society is no comfort To one not sociable.

The American has dwindled into an Odd Fellow,-one who may be known by the development of his organ of gregariousness.