Quotes About Sympathy

A child's misery is of concern to a mother, a young man's misery is of concern to a young woman, an old man's misery is of concern to nobody.

No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved. No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

Not monsters; just boys, really.

I'm sorry you had to find out about Dad, but maybe it'll help. We're human, Ruby. All of us. Just human.

Perché dovresti voler essere mio amico?» «Per lo stesso motivo per cui chiunque vuole essere amico di qualcuno», risponde. «Perché mi piaci.»

Dealing with the loss of Kelsey should have made her more attuned to the agony of others,

The dark brown soil is turned By the sharp-pointed plow; And I've a lesson learned. My life is but a field, Stretched out beneath God's sky, Some harvest rich to yield. Where grows the golden grain? Where faith? Where sympathy? In a furrow cut by pain. Maltbie D. Babcock

Well, she thought. Well, well. Here we are, probably for the first time, just talking to each other. Not arguing, not being sarcastic, just talking. It's nice. It was surprisingly nice. And the strange thing was, she knew Ash thought so, too. They understood each other. Over the table, Ash gave her a barely perceptible nod.

Knowledge may be power, but it is not resilience, or resourcefulness, or adaptability to life, still less is it instinctive sympathy with human nature;

We ought never to mock the wretched, for who can be sure of being always happy?

We are all strong enough to endure the misfortunes of others.

We bear, all of us, the misfortunes of other people with heroic constancy.

When did he start to stroke and compassionate?

Nothing made you feel so useless as another person's grief.

And there's no better way to thaw a face, as it turns out, than with another face.

We all have the dark, ignorant shadow inside us. I have worked endlessly to reveal it and heal it in me, but of course there's some primitive weird stuff in me. The Tea Party is about exhorting white supremacy, though, so I've had a tiny bit of trouble experiencing sympathy.

I am not the one of us who has no heart.

A parabatai. Like he was. And Jace knew, too, what that faded rune meant: a parabatai whose other half was dead. He felt his sympathy leap toward Brother Zachariah, as he imagined himself without Alec, with only that faded rune to remind him where once he had been bonded to someone who knew all the best and worst parts of his soul.

Only mundanes say they're sorry when what they mean is "I share your grief,"' Jace observed.

Those who cannot love do not understand it

Sympathy is common. Knowing the exact shape of the hole someone's loss leaves in your heart is rare.

If we meet in battle, I will know the song your heart sings, eh? And you will know mine.

Not that I don't get where she's coming from. But when you're nervous and somebody else is nervous, too, you feel like you want them to help you stay calm. Maybe it's not a reasonable request, but you do. Otherwise their nervous kind of stands on the shoulders of your nervous, and then the whole nervous thing is so big and tall that it gets to be too much nervous for anybody to bear.

Ben prioritizes my sorrow over his own.