Quotes About Compassion

Or that I couldn't stand to watch anything bad happen to you, because it was like it was happening to me too.Is that love?"His hand clasped my hand again and squeezed. I swallowed. "It could be.

On a sigh he brought up his hand and used one long finger to brush a dark curl away from my face. With the saddest look in his eyes, he said, "A girl needs to be held right now, and comforted, and told that everything is going to be okay. I'm sorry I can't do that for you. I don't have any of that left." "I have a little," I said, "and I'll lend it to you.

But when I was a little girl, my mom always told me to be nice to everybody, no matter what they looked like or how they treated me, because I never knew who might be an angel God had sent to Earth in disguise.

Or that I couldn't stand to watch anything bad happen to you, because it was like it was happening to me too. Is that love?

Finally he said, "I am sorry for it. His mama didn't teach him right." My mama didn't teach me right either, I thought, and I don't act that way. I kept rocking.

Leaning over me with his chest bare, he pressed his wadded-up t-shirt to my ear. It was his Poser t-shirt that he wore to school at least twice a week,and he was willingly staunching my blood with it.He must be in love.

His voice was soft and jis smile was kind

He didn't like kids, and parents of kids weren't high on his list, either. It didn't matter how cool you'd been--you had a kid and you were one more sucker spooning goop into an angry little mouth, a guy with pacifiers in his pockets and snot trails on his sleeves and a happy-goofy look Danny could only think was some kind of shock, like those people who sit around cracking jokes after their legs get blown off.

We are most reluctant to hurt those who remind us of ourselves.

A good deed needs no excuse.

A good deed needs no excuse. So his pop used to reassure Dexter when he would resist, embarrassed, carrying a covered dish of leftover meatballs to the bums and hoboes who haunted the carny houses near his restaurant. Dexter muttered the phrase to himself as he lifted the heavy folded chair into his trunk. A good deed needs no excuse.

If you ever find yourself thinking that a mass human extinction event would be good for population control, you might want to get checked out.

Maybe we shared an impatience with small talk, being a heart surgeon and a drug counselor. The body and its needs: the thing itself.

Later, in bed, she smooths my forehead with her cool hand. "He's had a hard time, Drew," she says. "Is it too much to ask you to be patient with him?" "He's not our son. I don't know him, and neither do you." "He's family," she says. "Isn't that enough?

If I could imagine the past with compassion, why couldn't I breathe hope into an imagined future?

Don't you know that this is the only reason we are here, to love one another, and to be loved?

If you've never experienced a sense of dysphoria with your own body, all I can say is, Lucky you. But just because you have not experienced this yourself does not mean it is not real in the hearts of others.

Maybe . . . it's easier to have enemies than not to have them. . . . If you don't hate people, you have to learn to like them. . . . And liking people? That's not easy.

Maybe we should just love one another, even if we don't completely understand the things that people bear in their dark, strange hearts, even if the stars that other men and women are following seem invisible to us. If we make ourselves open to the humanity of others first, maybe understanding will follow. An incomprehensible theory of the universal isn't necessary if your only ambition is to embrace another soul. What you need, maybe all you need, in fact, is the willingness to love.

Don't you know that this is the only reason we are here, to love one another, and to be loved? Why is it that what is so obvious to dogs is such a mystery to men and women?

The problem is - we own our lives, sure. But our lives don't belong only to us. And yet, we are here to tell our stories in this way to make sense of our lives. So how do you tell a story when you know that telling it will bring other people sorrow? Is it better, in the end, to just be silent?

Having an opinion about transsexuality is about as useful as having and opinion on blindness. You can think whatever you like about it, but in the end, your friend it still blind and surely deserves to see.

That's what I learned. Everybody's black and blue, somewhere. I never met anybody who wasn't." "Not like me." "No," said Shannon. "Everybody gets broken all their own way." She smiled bitterly. "That's what makes you, you: the pieces you're smashed into aren't like anybody else's. They're all yours.

Generosity of the heart is the most valuable asset you can have.