Quotes About Compassion

Women fight differently from men. You couldn't get me to hurt a woman's breasts for anything. I know how tender my own are when I'm PMSing. Besides, we feed babies with them.

You like me." "I do not," she lied. "But I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." He was undaunted. "Aye, you like me, lass. I can tell. You called me by my given name and you are frowning, with dewy eyes. I forgive you for being cruel and thoughtless.

Some things the gut distills to their essence no matter how hard you try to factor in compassion and mercy and understanding. One of them killed the other. And there is violence in my heart.

Sympathy isn't quite as bad. Sympathy says, I know how it feels, doesn't it just suck? Pity means they think you're defeated

I may be more sparing with mention of my gang rape in the future. Although I enjoy baiting this bear, I don't enjoy his pain. Just his fire.

It seems a kindness from a man I would never have counted kind.

Dying for someone isn't the hard thing. The man that dies escapes. Plain and simple. Game over. End of pain. Alina was the lucky one. Try living for someone. Through it all—good, bad, thick, thin, joy, suffering. That's the hard thing.

One thing I've learned is that the harder your life gets, the gentler you have to be with yourself when you finally get some downtime, or you can't be strong when you need to be.

You didn't have to rip my dress," she said plaintively when he let her breathe. "I love this one. Nellie worked on it for days." "I'm sorry, lass," he said somberly. " Ã¢â'¬â"¢Twas an accident, lass. Sometimes I forget my strength. I mean to be gentle but it doesn't come out that way. Can you forgive me?

She's brilliant and kind and has the heart of a warrior but she doesn't have ice and razor blades inside where your soul is supposed to be. She loves. And she doesn't know how to take it back when you have to, because sometimes you sure as feck have to.

Even I know it's impossible in times of war to save everyone. For the love of Mary, it's impossible in times of peace.

Some people—who haven't lost someone they love unconditionally and more than themselves—think a year is plenty of time to get over the trauma of their death and you should have fully moved on. Fuck you, it's not.

They're going to die on your doorstep because you're too much of a prick to save them." "The world is not my responsibility." "Obviously.

when you can't forgive

You love her," he said roughly. "That means you know her. When you love somebody you see inside them. Use your heart.

On her first date with Jack, they'd gone hiking with his dog in Runyon Canyon. When the dog got too tired to finish, Jack carried him the rest of the way. Zadie knew then that she could have babies with him.

I'm proud of you, son," he said. "I guess it has finally sunk in that it's important to stand up for yourself in this world." Rocky shook his head. "It's more important to stand up for someone who can't stand up for herself," he had answered. Rocky Ryan speaking with his father.

Be nice to People on your way up,Because your gonna meet them on your way down

Hundreds of our old neighbors, friends, coworkers, and teachers are new insomniacs. They file for dream bankruptcy, appeal for Slumber Corps aid, wait to be approved for a sleep donor. It is a special kind of homelessness, says our mayor, to be evicted from your dreams. I believe our mayor is both genuinely concerned for his insomniac constituency, and also pandering to a powerfully desperate new voting block.

And I feel certain there must be a second set of laws, inscrutable but real, that governs exactly how much a particular individual can give to and receive from another. Some hydrology of human generosity. Because there are these gifts we can make to one another freely, reflexively, with no sting of loss; and there are gifts we fight to relinquish, beg to get.

Etiquette was so confounding in this country. Still, looking at Mirabella-her fists balled together like small, white porcupines, her brows knitted in animal confusion-I felt a throb of compassion. How can people live like they do? I wondered. Then I congragulated myself. This was a Stage 3 thought.

I just want to tell her that I'm sorry," Wallow says softly. He doesn't know that I'm awake. He's talking to himself, or maybe to the ocean. There's not a trace of fear in his voice. And it's clear then that Wallow is a better brother than I could ever hope to be.

I blinked down at a little blond child and then saw that my two hands were shaking violently, soundlessly, like old friends wishing not to burden me with their troubles.

Seek out the good in the bad, the happy in your sad, the gain in your pain, what make you grateful, not hateful.