But friendship differs from love in the degree of intensity of its emotion and in the extent of the tract of life covered. In these respects it more nearly resembles liking. We all know how slight a friendly feeling may be, even when entirely genuine. This is because of the well-recognized limits of friendship, limits sometimes narrow, sometimes broad. I take John for my friend on account of his wit, James for his scholarship, Henry for discussion of art, Charles for theology. Outside these matters we have little in common. If I try to introduce these friends to other sides of me, I know that our friendship would be strained. Love knows no such limits. In it there is no holding back. There the more we give the more we have. Not that in friendship we set up such limits by our own volition, as is done in partnership. The limits are ingrained in the persons, and beyond them we know it is futile to press. When two natures have certain sides that fit, to the advantage of each, a friendship springs up. But how embarrassing when some friend whom we greatly value has limitations which oblige us to pause and he, not perceiving them, attributes to our adverse will the failure in full mutual accord! Because of its narrow bounds and because it is sought for individual gain, friendship is of far wider currency than love. We make and drop our friendships with comparative ease, hardly from the first expecting them to be lasting. But a love to which we contemplated an end, either in extent or duration, would be already ended. The Greeks justly eulogized friendship as our best security in an uncertain world. And, obviously, he is imprudent who does not surround himself with a protecting band of friends.