Campus Friendship Quotes

Of course I’m up,” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep when you two fucktards are standing at the foot of my bed talking about angels blowing their loads?” Garrett snickers. “Like I’m the first one to ever wonder about that.

The writer Wesley Morris calls this experience the trapdoor of racism. “For people of color, some aspect of friendship with white people involves an awareness that you could be dropped through a trapdoor of racism at any moment, by a slip of the tongue, or at a campus party, or in a legislative campaign,” he wrote in 2015. “But it’s not always anticipated.” The trapdoor describes the limited level of comfort that Black people can feel around white people who are part of their lives in a meaningful way. Even if these white people decide they will confront racism every day, it’s guaranteed they will sometimes screw up and disappoint the Black people they know.

When I heard of the shady tactics of the Moonies, my initial indignation was modified by empathy. I remembered only too well all the innocuous-sounding "fronts" operated by Evangelicals in order to witness to sinners, e.g., coffee houses, concerts, philosophical forums, religious surveys. None of these was ever billed for what it was. The idea was to hook the unsuspecting sinner and win an opportunity to tell him the gospel. Similar Machiavellian tactics govern various interpersonal contacts. A campus leader or foreign student may find himself the object of an Evangelical's friendly attention, not realizing he has been singled out for "friendship evangelism" because of his potentially strategic position.

But too many kids get to college and try to collapse it, to make it as comfortable and recognizable as possible. They replicate the friends and friendships they've previously enjoyed. They join groups that perpetuate their high school cliques. Concerned with establishing a "network" they seek out peers with aspirations identical to their own. In doing so, they frequently default to a clannishness that too easily becomes a lifelong habit. ....Open your laptops . Delete at least one of every four bookmarks. Replace it with something entirely different, even anti ethical. Go to twitter, Facebook etc start falling or connecting with views that diverge from your own. Conduct your social lives along the same lines, mixing it up. Do not go only to the campus basketball games....wander beyond the periphery of campus, and not to find equally enchanted realms-if you study abroad, don't choose the destination for its picturesqueness-but to see something else.

Goodreads is becoming my diary- When I joined Nalanda by 2018, Ritika Rajput, Myself and Urvashi punia bishnoi were almost inseparable friends for three months, wherever we go, we go together, we eat together, we fight together almost whole Nalanda could not separate our friendship until two people entered which I do not want to mention. When we were close friends Shubham das and Shalini Chauhan were seniors to us and introduced us into trekking and hiking in and around Rajgir. But Ritika did not like that I even talk with Shalini Chauhan. Once Shalini invited me to visit Banaras with her, but Ritika asked me not to go with her, I did not want to mess up within friendship so I did not go. After Myself, Ritika and Urvashi broke apart in friendships , Shalini was always there to support me without any expectations. Yeah there were few more friends or seemed like friends Rashmi Singh, Rakhi Kashyap, Deepa kundu, Kajal, Madhuri and all of them were making troubles instead of peace. Shalini was the only peace lover at that time in the campus, but second year she went abroad and then I could not see her even until now Just diary of memories

Never was the two cultures stand-off more apparent than here. In Gunn’s poem, a new neighbour (an outsider) wants them evicted because of their detrimental effect on property prices. She might well have been an academic: in more than thirty years in the humanities side of universities, the attitude towards those skills which I encountered was mainly one of ignorant, patronizing condescension. Just occasionally a student from the science side would dismantle a car in a campus car park only to be moved on by the authorities, as were Gunn’s auto freaks. Among the younger academics, disdain for this culture verged on contempt because of its supposedly obsolete ‘masculinist’ values. Those same academics were also the ones quick to brand any intense friendship between the men of this ‘masculinist’ culture as repressed homosexuality. In truth, sometimes it might have been, and yet sometimes it almost certainly wasn’t: some of the most loyal and selfless friendships I’ve ever known were between working-class young men who, insofar as anyone can ever be sure of these things, really were straight.

We all walk in silence for a minute, just listening to the breeze and bustle of the campus around us. It's a friendship like this that I never thought I would find, people with whom you can share the silence and not have to fill it with meaningless conversation. Sometimes their mere presence is just enough, my three nonbiological big sisters.

I was less than a row away when he grabbed my arm and dug his fingers right into a pressure point. “I would love to know why my cousin is beginning to question me.” “Let go of me or I’ll scream.” “Scream and I’ll kill someone you love.” I turned to finally look up at Blake’s cold blue eyes. “W-what did you say?” “Exactly what you thought you heard. Now, let’s go.” I dug my feet into the ground and tried to walk toward my car. “No! Let me go.” “For shit’s sake, Rachel,” he growled, and leaned close so it looked like we were hugging, “don’t be difficult or I’ll make good on my promise.” From the tone of his voice, I had no doubt he would. “Please, just let me go home, how did you even know I was here?” Blake blew out an annoyed breath and dug his fingers into the pressure point harder before walking us toward his car. “Candice called me this morning screaming at me. Demanding to know what I did that would make you go drop all of your classes today. I was already on campus, so I’ve just been waiting for you.” Wait. Does that mean she believed me? Hope and an ache for the friendship Candice and I had always had blossomed in my chest but was quickly replaced by fear when Blake put me in his car and lifted his shirt just enough to show me the gun holstered to his hip. “Run, Rachel. I dare you.”   M

How do I love campuses? Let me count the ways. I love the coffee shops and reading rooms where one can sit and talk or browse forever. I love the buildings with no addresses that only the initiated can find, and the idiosyncratic clothes that would never make it in the outside world. I love the flash parties that start in some odd spot and can't be moved, and the flash seminars that any discussion can turn into. I love the bulletin boards that are an education in themselves, the friendships between people who would never otherwise have met, and the time for inventiveness that produces, say, an exercise bike that powers a computer. Most of all, I love graduations. They are individual and communal, an end and a beginning, more permanent than weddings, more inclusive than religions, and possibly the most moving ceremonies on earth.

that her best friend, Gabe Poirier, is a bad idea. He’s a walking, talking cliché. The Adonis quarterback with the bulging biceps and harem of fangirls trailing behind him on campus like a stench you can’t get rid of. Sadly, that’s also the reason she can’t stay away from him. Well, that and the fact that they’re roommates. Jolie is already straddling the line between friendship and more when Sage comes to her with an offer she cannot refuse: be his fake girlfriend and live for free for the rest of the semester. She tells herself that she can handle it. He’s just the boy she saved ten years