He used to write to me at one time. Long letters about Ford Madox Ford. I used to write to him too, come to think of it. Long letters about… oh, W.B. Yeats, I suppose. That was the time when we were both editors of poetry magazines. Him at Cambridge, me at Oxford. Did you know that? We were bright young men. And close friends. Well, we still are close friends. All that was long before I met you. Long before he met you.

Harold Pinter, Betrayal.

Cary Grant & James Stewart in The Philadelphia Story

Mulder: I like you, Marty. I admire you. And I don’t want to see you confess to crimes you didn’t commit.