Quotes About Compassion

The most striking quality that humans and animals have in common is the capacity to experience suffering.

May every moment of my life and of the lives of others be one of wisdom, flourishing, and inner peace!

Voluntary simplicity is at once joyous and altruistic. Joyous because it is not permanently plagued by the hunger for "more"; altruistic because it does not encourage the disproportionate concentration of resources in the hands of a few, resources which—were they to be spread evenly—would significantly improve the lives of those deprived of basic needs.

Some people might think that the smartest way to guarantee their own well-being is to isolate themselves from others and to work hard at their own happiness, without consideration for what other people are experiencing. They probably assume that if everybody did that, we'd all be happy. But the result would be exactly the opposite: instead of being happy, they would be torn between hope and fear, make their own lives miserable, and ruin the lives of the people around them too.

Every time a trick hangs up on me, I gain a renewed faith in humanity—someone really cares!

Julia was as happy as Betsy was, almost. One nice thing about Julia was that she rejoiced in other people's luck.

We read literature for a number of reasons, but two of the most compelling ones are to get out of ourselves and our own life stories and - especially important - to find ourselves by understanding our own life stories more clearly in the context of others.

I'm scared. To Nate's credit, he did not ask why she was scared, and he did not tell her not to be scared. Maybe he understood how terrifying it is to do the thing you meant to do.

I don't mind bigots. You're allowed to be bigoted, if that makes you happy. Just do it at home. And not around the children.

Hello, Alice, Stevie said. It'd okay. It's over.

People can't really sympathize with you properly when you've woken them up

Nate was a rain cloud, but he was her friendly rain cloud, and the world needs some rain.

She reached over and squeezed him by the arm. "You did this for me," she said. "Yeah, I did this for you, but don't make it a thing.

I don't think a man can hurt another, not in any important way. Neither hurt him nor help him. I have really nothing to forgive you.

Why yes, I can," said Midas Mulligan, when he was asked whether he could name a person more evil than the man with a heart closed to pity. "The man who uses another's pity for him as a weapon.

You can't be hard on a man who needs you, it will prey on your conscience for the rest of your life." "It won't." "You've got to be kind, Henry." "I'm not." "You've got to have some pity." "I haven't." "A good man knows how to forgive." "I don't." "You wouldn't want me to think that you're selfish." "I am.

Why yes, I can, said Midas Mulligan, when he was asked whether he could name a person more evil than the man with a heart closed to pity. The man who uses another's pity for him as a weapon.

He looked at Roark and saw the calmest, kindest face—a face without a hint of pity. It did not look like the countenance of men who watch the agony of another with a secret pleasure, uplifted by the sight of a beggar who needs their compassion; it did not bear the cast of the hungry soul that feeds upon another's humiliation.

Her face looked as if she knew his worst suffering and it was hers and she wished to bear it like this, coldly, asking no words of mitigation.

I'd rather be kind than right.

You've got to be kind..." "I'm not." "You've got to have some pity." "I haven't." "A good man knows how to forgive." "I don't." "You wouldn't want me to think that you're selfish." "I am.

That love is reverence, and worship, and glory, and the upward glance. Not a bandage for dirty sores. But they don't know it. Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who've never felt it. They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion, contempt and general indifference, and they call it love.

Whenever anyone accuses some person of being 'unfeeling,' he means that that person is just.

People, he thought, were as hungry for a sight of joy as he had always been—for a moment's relief from that gray load of suffering which seemed so inexplicable and unnecessary. He had never been able to understand why men should be unhappy.