Quotes About Compassion

Christian charity, the compassion of centuries of civilisation, fell from her like useless ornaments, revealing her bare, arid soul. She and her children were alone in a hostile world. She needed to feed and protect them.

Nearby he saw a man, his head covered in blood, stumble like a drunkard into a thicket; he sat there between the branches in a bizarre and uncomfortable position, his knees folded under him, his chin resting on his chest. He heard an officer shouting angrily, "No doctors, no nurses, no ambulances! What are we supposed to do?

Giunge un'età, infatti, in cui la pietà che avevamo per i bambini prende un'altra forma, un'età in cui contempliamo i volti rugosi dei vecchi e intuiamo che un giorno saremo come loro... È allora che finisce la prima infanzia.

Christian charity, the compassion of centuries of civilization, fell from her like useless ornaments, revealing her bare, arid soul. She needed to feed and protect her children. Nothing else mattered any more.

Dying doesn't cause suffering. Resistance to dying does.

Often when a physician cannot imagine what else to do for someone who is feeling helpless and hopeless—for whom life has no value—I find that love is the answer.

We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilized.

To fully and authentically affirm life, we must affirm all of life, including dying, death, and grief.

People are inherently dignified, and they are only made undignified if they are placed in situations that are demeaning.

A good working relationship with the doctor and health care team of the person being cared for is probably the single most important thing that caregivers need.

Nothing is work when it's done with love.

Some people feel more deeply than others. And I don't consider that a liability. In fact, those people tend to be even stronger. They have to be in order to survive.

It's never trouble to do things for people you love.

One small gesture of compassion can have a life-changing impact.

Her little shop might not change the world . . . or garner her a Nobel Peace Prize . . . but Mother Teresa had been right. Not everyone was able to do great things, but everyone could do small things with great love.

God doesn't expect perfection. All he asks is that we learn from our mistakes and try to do better in the future. He forgives us far more easily than we often forgive ourselves. He also heals the brokenhearted and saves those whose spirit is crushed.

Sometimes he's most evident in small gestures of kindness. And those gestures can be found even in the worst situations.

If you are struck by a bus, someone may steal your purse or wallet while you lie injured, but many more will come to your aid, trying to save your precious life. One person will call 911, and another will race down the street to alert a police officer on his or her beat. Someone else will take off his coat, fold it, and place it under your head, so that if these are indeed your last moments of life you will die in the small but real comfort of knowing that someone cared about you.

It is in the capacity to love, that is to SEE, that the liberation of the soul from fantasy consists. The freedom which is a proper human goal is the freedom from fantasy, that is the realism of compassion. What I have called fantasy, the proliferation of blinding self-centered aims and images, is itself a powerful system of energy, and most of what is often called 'will' or 'willing' belongs to this system. What counteracts the system is attention to reality inspired by, consisting of, love.

Love doesn't think like that. All right, it's blind as a bat--' 'Bats have radar. Yours doesn't seem to be working.

Love is the Extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real

Art transcends selfish and obsessive limitations of personality and can enlarge the sensibility of its consumer. It is a kind of goodness by proxy. Most of all it exhibits to us the connection, in human beings, of clear realistic vision with compassion. The realism of a great artist is not a photographic realism, it is essentially both pity and justice.

Don't tease me. Everything wounds me now except perfect kindness.

Why do I always have to be helping people . . . and getting no help myself?