The Friend of Your Youth is the only friend you will ever have, for he does not really see you. He sees in his mind a face that does not exist anymore, speaks a name — Spike, Bud, Snip, Red, Rusty, Jack, Dave — which belongs to that now nonexistent face but which by some inane doddering confusion of the universe is for the moment attached to a not happily met and boring stranger. But he humors the drooling doddering confusion of the universe and continues to address politely that dull stranger by the name which properly belongs to the boy face and to the time when the boy voice called thinly across the late afternoon water or murmured by a campfire at night or in the middle of a crowded street said, “Gee, listen to this—’ On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble; His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves—’” The Friend of Your Youth is your friend because he does not see you anymore. And perhaps he never saw you. What he saw was simply part of the furniture of the wonderful opening world. Friendship was something he suddenly discovered and had to give away as a recognition of and payment for the breathlessly opening world which momently divulged itself like a moonflower. It didn’t matter a damn to whom he gave it, for the fact of giving was what mattered, and if you happened to be handy you were automatically endowed with all the appropriate attributes of a friend and forever after your reality is irrelevant. The Friend of Your Youth is the only friend you will ever have, for he hasn’t the slightest concern with calculating his interest or your virtue. He doesn’t give a damn, for the moment, about Getting Ahead or Needs Must Admiring the Best, the two official criteria in adult friendships, and when the boring stranger appears, he puts out his hand and smiles (not really seeing your face) and speaks your name (which doesn’t really belong to your face), saying, “Well, Jack, damned glad you came, come on in, boy! . Robert Penn Warren
About This Quote

This quote is about living in the moment. As pointed out by the author, Spike, Bud, Snip, Red, Rusty, Jack, Dave – which belongs to that now nonexistent face but which by some inane doddering confusion of the universe is for the moment attached to a not happily met and boring stranger. However, he humors the drooling doddering confusion of the universe and continues to address politely that dull stranger by the name which properly belongs to the boy face and to the time when the boy voice called thinly across the late afternoon water or murmured by a campfire at night or in the middle of a crowded street said, “Gee, listen to this–’On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble; His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves–’” The Friend of Your Youth is your friend because he does not see you anymore.And perhaps he never saw you. What he saw was simply part of the furniture of the wonderful opening world.

Friendship was something he suddenly discovered and had to give away as a recognition of and payment for the breathlessly opening world which momently divulged itself like a moonflower. It didn't matter a damn to whom he gave it, for the fact of giving was what mattered, and if you happened to be handy you were automatically endowed with all the appropriate attributes of a friend and forever after your reality is irrelevant. The Friend of Your Youth is your friend because he hasn't any concern with calculating his interest or your virtue.

He doesn't give a damn, for the moment, about Getting Ahead or Needs Must Admiring the Best, two official criteria in adult friendships, and when that boring stranger appears (who may or may not have been you), then he puts out his hand and smiles (not really seeing your face) and speaks your name (which doesn't really belong to your face), saying: Well , Jack , damned glad you came , come on in , boy!

Source: All The Kings Men

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  3. If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever. - Alfred Tennyson
  4. You are my best friend as well as my lover, and I do not know which side of you I enjoy the most. I treasure each side, just as I have treasured our life together. - Nicholas Sparks
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More Quotes By Robert Penn Warren
  1. Man is conceived in sin and born in corruption and he passeth from the stink of the didie to the stench of the shroud. There is always something( All The King's Men)
  2. Historical sense and poetic sense should not, in the end, be contradictory, for if poetry is the little myth we make, history is the big myth we live, and in our living, constantly remake.
  3. The poem is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful.
  4. BeautyIs the fume-track of necessity. This thought Is therapeutic. If, after several Applications, you do not find Relief, consult your family physician
  5. And the testicles of the fathers hang down like old lace
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