Quotes About Compassion

Bear gifts if you can't bear anything else.

now her stomach knotted as she remembered the Free-Lunch kids and her patronizing smiles toward them as they presented their dog-eared cards, and the steamy cafeteria ladies would call it out: Free Lunch! And the boy next to her, buzz-haired and confident, would whisper inanely: There's no such thing as a free lunch. And she'd feel sorry for the kids, but not in a way that made her want to help, just in a way that made her not want to look at them anymore.

I could build my days around charity committees and home decoration and gardening and volunteering, and I don't think there's anything wrong with building a life around those things. Most beautiful, good things are done by women people scorn.

Was I good at caring for Amma because of kindness? Or did I like caring for Amma because I have Adora's sickness?

noblesse oblige

Everyone is nice. They are literally as nice as they can be.

Every tragedy that happens in the world happens to my mother, and this more than anything about her turns my stomach. She worries over people she's never met who have a spell of bad chance. She cries over news from across the globe. It's all too much for her, the cruelty of human beings

And she'd feel sorry for the kids, but not in a way that made her want to help, just in a way that made her not want to look at them anymore.

I had to know I could love a person unconditionally, that I could make a little creature feel constantly welcome and wanted no matter what. That I could be a different kind of father than my dad was.

You should have been nicer to her, Nick. You should have eaten the fucking pie.

Because I feel sorry for you. - Why? - Because every morning you have to wake up and be you.

I know. It's just that I'm wondering why you've decided to be nice to me now.' 'Sometimes I can't. But right now, I can. When everyone's asleep and everything's quiet, it's easier.

Marian is dead. I couldn't stop. I've lost 12 pounds and am skin and bones. Everyone's been incredibly kind. People can be so wonderful.

I think this experience will make him a better person. Or at least a sorrier one.

Die Liebe weckt in dir den Wunsch, ein bessere Mensch zu werden - gut und schön. Aber vielleicht gibt dir die Liebe, die wahre Liebe, auch die Erlaubnis, einfach der Mensch zu sein, der du bist.

My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm. I doubt my sister will ever marry: If she's sad or upset or angry, she needs to be alone—she fears a man dismissing her womanly tears.

Whenever i see new stories about children who were killed by their own parents i think ... but how could it be? They cared enough to give this kid a name, They had a moment at least one moment when they sifted through all the possibilities and picked one specific name for their child , decided what will they call their baby . How could you kill something you cared enough to name?

It wasn't that I truly felt bad that I'd upset my mother—it was more that I hated any debits in her column.

No one ever forgives me for anything," she whimpered, her chin shaking. I wanted to tell her I did, but I didn't. Instead I poured her another drink.

The ones we picked? We didn't call them marks, or prey or victims. We called them Tonys, because my dad was named Tony and he could never say no to anyone (although I assume he said no to my mom at least once, when she asked him to stay).

Ho visto le vittime. Vere, reali, ho ancora negli occhi le loro facce di esseri umani sofferenti. Non credere una parola, quando diranno che hanno «sconfitto il terrorismo». Sono bugie, enormi bugie. Che difenderanno con i denti per copripre i propri crimini e i propri interessi. Ma i morti e i feriti sono lì; se ne trovano i resti e la memoria, se si ha il coraggio di farlo.

Spero solo che si rafforzi la convinzione, in coloro che decideranno di leggere quete pagine, che le guerre, tutte le guerre sono un orrore. E che non ci si può voltare dall'altra parte, per non vedere le facce di quanti soffrono in silenzio.

Come può un'organizzazzione che si occupa delle vittime di guerra andarsene via, quando la guerra si fa più vicina e più violenta? E cosa diciamo al nostro staff e ai nosti pazienti: è stato bello, ma in fondo era un gioco, arrivederci e grazie, e scusate il disturbo?

Probabilmente qualche altro inquilino si era accorto di quell'acqua che scorreva fuori da quella porta, ma si era ben guardato dall'avvisare qualcuno, il portiere: la civiltà di massa ha questo pregio, che ciascuno può annegare liberamente senza che gli altri gli diano fastidio nel tentativo di salvarlo. È in fondo una forma di delicatezza e di rispetto dell'opinione altrui di morire da sé.