Quotes About Compassion

But love was terribly important. She didn't mean romantic love. Generalized sort of love.

Hope is exactly that, that's all it is, a matter of how we deal with the negative acts towards human beings by other human beings in the world, remembering that they and we are all human, that nothing human is alien to us, the foul and the fair, and that most important of all we're here for a mere blink of the eyes, that's all.

It's good, to be seen past, as if you're not the only one, as if everything isn't happening just to you. Because you're not. And it isn't.

One day instead the old woman said kind words to her and gave her an awning on a stick to keep rain off (there has been much rain in purgatorium)

The act of saying I forgive you, it's like saying you are less than me and I have the moral or superior upper hand.

Perhaps somewhere in all of this if you look there's a proof of love.

across the aeons and the global distances what all the peoples of the world really have in common is so many similar ways of doing humiliating and painful things to each other.

Anyone who gives wings to another's shoulders, and then along the way gradually spreads out a hidden net, extinguishes completely the ardent charity enkindled by love precisely where it most desires to burn.

Something had lubricated us. Something had washed us clean. I understood, and at the same minute I understood that that they all understood, too. Hate had passed away, and in its place was the other word that's just as big. ("Golden Baby")

Every life is meant to help all lives; each man should live for all men's betterment.

Last night," he said, reminiscently, "you bound my arm—the merest scratch! with all the tenderness of which a woman is capable when her compassion is aroused. Today, you propose to shoot me in cold blood for no better reason than that I will not gratify your curiosity! It has been truly said that females are strange creatures!

Life is just a short walk from the cradle to the grave, and it sure behooves us to be kind to one another along the way.

Everybody's got some sin, but if it troubles your heart you're a gentle sinner, just a good soul gone wrong.

Gawd might forgive but people never will.

One day I almost said it . . . after goin over the words in my mind, "Benjie, the greatest thing in the world is to love someone and they love you too." But when I opened my mouth, I said, "Benjie, brush the crumbs off your jacket.

and nobody would write peace on no walls...'cause it would be peace...and our hearts would be free!

When Johnnie went to France. Such a tame ending To a great romance-- Two lonely women With nothing much to do But get to know each other; She did and I did, too. Mornings at the Rectory, Learning how to roll Bandages, and always Saving light and coal. Oh, that house was bitter As winter closed in, In spite of heavy stockings And woolen next the skin. I was cold and wretched, And never unaware Of John more cold and wretched In a trench out there.

Dear friend, come home. I have tragic news," he said. She looked straight at him without a spasm of fear, Her face not stern or masked-- "Is it Percy or John?" she asked. "Percy." She dropped her eyes. "I am needed here. Surely you know I cannot go Until every letter is written. The dead Must wait on the living," she said. "This is my work. I must stay.

They hugged, pressing each other's arms, and their brief embraces buoyed them up - forbearance and grace passing back and forth between them like a piece of shared clothing, designated for use by whoever needed it most.

She'd been raised not to dwell on such injustices, because dwelling made it difficult to be good company in the present. Perhaps it was necessary to dwell, though, even to be obsessive, for any real change to occur. Plenty of Quakers dwelled—the American Friends Service Committee, for example—and hadn't that done the world a lot of good? When she got back to Haverford, she'd volunteer for something to do with animals—if Dick could spare her.

to me that people across the globe

The weak are cruel. The strong have no need to be.

A young couple — bride eighteen, man twenty-two — came here for their honeymoon. The day after the wedding, he was found to have scarlet fever, and in two days he was dead. How cruel it is when pain and sorrow come to young things, — they are so helpless; what can they do with it? What a rush of desire to go to them and wrap them about in one's long-accustomedness until the little bewildered soul has woven for itself some sort of casing.

Learning is a result of listening, which in turn leads to even better listening and attentiveness to the other person. In other words, to learn from the child, we must have empathy, and empathy grows as we learn.