Quotes About Compassion

Os livros eram o único lugar onde havia compaixão, consolo, alegria... e amor. Os livros amavam a todos que os abriam, ofereciam proteção e amizade sem exigir nada em troca, e nunca iam embora, nunca, mesmo quando não eram bem tratados. Amor, verdade, beleza, sabedoria e consolo perante a morte.

The wrong boy. But what did the heart care about that?

Sollte er Staubfinger vielleicht doch noch etwas schlechter machen? Nein, er hatte ihn schon umgebracht, heute würde er ihm einen Gefallen tun. Heute würde er seine Frau dazu bringen, ihm ein für alle Mal zu verzeihen, dass er zehn Jahre fort gewesen war. Manchmal kann ich doch wahrlich ein netter Mensch sein!, dachte Fenoglio.

Their prince had weightier matters on his mind just now than the troubles of a farmer whose neighbour had stolen his pig, a cobbler who had bought poor quality leather from a dealer, or a seamstress whose husband beat her every night when he came home drunk.

And now the tears did come, hard as Elinor tried to keep them back. Angrily, she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "I think you're doing splendidly, Elinor." Mo was still lying with his face to the wall. "You're both doing splendidly. And I could wring my own neck for dragging you two into all this." "Nonsense. If anyone around here needs his neck wrung it's Capricorn," said Elinor.

He simply didn't see the world as it really was, that was the explanation - neither the world nor the people he felt so sorry for. Because if you did see them for what they were, what on earth would make you want to fight and even die for them?

How was she supposed to deal with a child? She could hardly manage to keep her own painful heart together.

Es gab Geschichten, dass der Natternkopf seinem Herold auch ein Herz aus Silber hatte anfertigen lassen, aber Fenoglio war sicher, dass in der Brust des Pfeifers ein menschliches Herz schlug. Nichts war grausamer, als ein Herz aus Fleisch und Blut, weil es wusste, was Schmerzen bereitete.

Why do you want to tie them up?" inquired Farid. "Why not kill them? That's what they were going to do to us!

After all,' she said, 'many people have little enough patience or understanding for their fellow human beings who are only superficially different to them — so how would it be for little people with blue skins who can fly?

Non far dimenticare all'altro chi era. Dell'amore faceva parte anche questo.

A bondade pode ser tão claramente identificada quanto a crueldade. Irradia luz e calor.

Ofelia could still hear Mercedes crying while the blood of the dying girl in her arms was dripping down into the well. She recognized the lullaby Mercedes hummed. And then... Ofelia smiled - oh, so faintly - and then could hear no more. And Mercedes bent over the dead girl and sobbed until the dark hard was wet with her tears.

Ofelia could still hear Mercedes crying while the blood of the dying girl in her arms was dripping down into the well. She recognized the lullaby Mercedes hummed. And then... Ofelia smiled - oh, so faintly - and then could hear no more. And Mercedes bent over the dead girl and sobbed until the dark hair was wet with her tears.

My darling," she said at last, "are you sure you don't mind being a mouse for the rest of your life?" "I don't mind at all," I said. "It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you." Roald Dahl, The Witches

You know, there comes a point where you're not giving advice anymore. There comes a point where you're just moralizing, demonstrating your hypothetical superiority when it comes to doing the right thing. That's not very fucking helpful, you know. I'm holding my shit together right now, and rather than telling me that it's not enough, you could try to help me with the stuff I'm capable of.

Making other people feel like assholes was a terrible way to get them to stop acting like assholes.

I don't even know who I was crying for. Me? Sruthi? Both? "Can I give you a hug?" Tanisha was a trailblazer in the whole consent movement.

That's the walkaway dilemma. If you take without giving, you're a mooch. If you keep track of everyone else's taking and giving, you're a creep scorekeeper. It's our version of Christian guilt—it's impious to feel good about your piety. You have to want to be good, but not feel good about how good you are. The worst thing is to be worrying about what someone else is doing, because that has nothing to do with whether you're doing right.

As in, "When I forget to do the dishes, that's because no one's perfect. When you forget to do the dishes, it's because you're a selfish asshole.

It boiled down to this: it's a lot harder to love than to hate. Harder to be there for those you love—to see them get older, get sick, be taken from you in sudden awful ways. Hate's dead simple. You can hate an utter stranger from a thousand miles away. It asks nothing of you. It eats you from the inside out but it takes no effort or thought at all."—Craig Davidson from Cataract City

Your prayer for someone may or may not change them, but it always changes YOU.

When we look at other people comparatively and competitively, we're not seeing them as our brothers and sisters. We're not loving them more than we love ourselves, and we we're definitely not seeing them as God sees them.

Love keeps no record of wrongs, but bitterness keeps detailed accounts.