Quotes About Empathy

stories belong to everybody.

There was something friendly about Sara, and people always felt it.

I wish I was friends with things, he said at last, but I'm not. I never had anything to be friends with, and I can't bear people.

Perhaps, she said, to be able to learn things quickly isn't everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other people.

Dickon says anything will understand if you're friends with it for sure, but you have to be friends for sure.

If Nature has made you a giver, your hands are born open, and so is your heart; and though there may be times when your hands are empty, your heart is always full, and you can give things out of that- warm things, kind things, sweet things-help and comfort and laughter- and sometimes gay, kind laughter is the best help of all.

I'm lonely, she said. She had not known before that this was one of the things which made her feel sour and cross.

I dare say you could live without me, Sara; but I couldn't live without you. I was nearly dead.

The mere seeing of Miss Sara would have been enough without meat pies. If there was time only for a few words, they were always friendly, merry words that put heart into one...Sara--who was only doing what she unconsciously liked better than anything else, Nature having made her for a giver--had not the least idea what she meant to poor Becky, and how wonderful a benefactor she seemed.

If nature has made you for a giver, your hands are born open and so is your heart; and thought there may be times when your hands are empty, your heart is always full and you can give things out of that-

I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat, she mused. Nobody likes you. People jump and run away and scream out, 'Oh, a horrid rat!' I shouldn't like people to scream and jump and say, 'Oh, a horrid Sara!' the moment they saw me. And set traps for me, and pretend they were dinner.

She said that perhaps it was not so easy to be very rich; that if any one had so many things always, one might sometimes forget that every one else was not so fortunate, and that one who is rich should always be careful and try to remember.

She had learned to know how comforting a smile, even from a stranger, may be.

Four good things had happened to her, in fact, since she came to Misselthwaite Manor. She had felt as if she had understood a robin and that he had understood her; she had run in the wind until her blood had grown warm; she had been healthily hungry for the first time in her life; and she had found out what it was to be sorry for some one.

I am growing quite fond of him," she said to Ermengarde; "I should not like him to be disturbed. I have adopted him for a friend. You can do that with people you never speak to at all. You can just watch them, and think about them and be sorry for them, until they seem almost like relations. I'm quite anxious sometimes when I see the doctor call twice a day.

It had never occurred to his honest, simple little mind that there were people who could forget kindnesses.

How is it that animals understand things I do not know, but it is certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without even making a sound, to another soul.

Nothing in the world is so strong as a kind heart

Dearest says that is the best kind of goodness; not to think about yourself, but to think about other people.

Papa won't be very long now," she said. "May we talk about the lost little girl?" "I don't think I could talk much about anything else just now," the Indian gentleman answered, knitting his forehead with a tired look.

How is it that animals understand things I do not know, but it is certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language that is not made up of words & everything in this world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden in everything & it can always speak, without making a sound, to another soul.

And that is best of all, Ceddie,—it is better than everything else, that the world should be a little better because a man has lived—even ever so little better, dearest.

When people had the cholera it seemed that they remembered nothing but themselves.

How it is that animals understand things I do not know, but it is certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without making a sound, to another soul.