Quotes About Empathy

Stevie thought about how people have to find their own ways to the light. People take as long as they take, and there wasn't any use trying to rush them.

She put others first, and she never felt the need to shine." "But she did shine," Sam said. "People loved her." "That was her secret," Dana said, picturing her sister's smile. "She shined from within.

liked the way Jane smiled at her—as if Jane was looking for and seeing the very best in Chloe. Not like teachers, always correcting you, trying to improve you, and not like parents, just waiting for you to do the next wrong thing, so they could shake their heads and let you know how disappointed they were in you. . . .

Jane seemed to just like her. She liked her without wanting anything in return:

Never judge your friends by what makes them different," she had said. "Gender, color, none of that matters. It's who they—and you—are inside that counts.

Kids like that, who've had too much adversity young, have a real uphill battle. Quinn tries so hard, but she's something of a lost soul… she needs us to understand her." Rumer nodded.

Kids like that, who've had too much adversity young, have a real uphill battle. Quinn tries so hard, but she's something of a lost soul… she needs us to understand her.

We're keeping them alive, she said. Sweetheart, the fence, the wall, is inhumane. People are dying. That's their choice,he actually said. They come here illegally, that's the chance they take. When did you get so hard? she asked, holding his face between her hands. They're human beings like us, looking for a better life for their families. You understand that, don't you? You did it for us. It's a humanitarian crises, she said. And you're part of the problem. That's why you can't sleep at night.

what would it be like—to see the world like that? To love nature and people in such a pure way that it would never occur to her to ask what they could do for her? Emma knew that Stevie was terribly vulnerable—things made her cry so easily.

Everyone always said forgiveness is not forgetting, that the act is as full of grace for the forgiver as the forgiven. This would not hurt her. She gazed at the old man across from her. She knew that she would never see him again, and she also knew she could never absolve him.

Sam said. "He goes to the soup kitchen.

Abusers are weak. They trap women who have gigantic hearts, who want to help these poor, sad wounded birds.

Stevie wanted to find the right words, to comfort the child. She wanted to ask what had happened to Emma. But she felt constrained, afraid she would say something wrong. Her own mother had died when she was young, and she remembered a world of adults who meant well but just seemed to make everything worse.

Thomas felt his breath coming easier than it had in two months, and not for the first time he wondered why people make it so hard to talk to the people they love. They imagine the worst, they set up obstacles to prevent the truth from coming out. But in the end, when they finally muddle through, they find relief.

Some adults would never understand what childhood could be. The ones who had grown up happy and loved, who had never seen their parents hurt, who had most of what they needed: Those adults couldn't know.

For Sam, growing up as worried about food and rent as his mother was, angry that everyone else had more than him, childhood hadn't been easy. His school pictures were hard to look at—he could see the worry and pain in his face, the tension in his posture. It took a hard-luck kid to know

I cured myself of shyness when it finally occurred to me that people didn't think about me half as much as I gave them credit for. The truth was, nobody gave a damn. Like most teenagers, I was far too self-centered. When I stopped being prisoner to what I worried was others' opinions of me, I became more confident and free.

I have a theory about the assists we get in life. Only rarely can we repay those people who helped us, but we can pass that help along to others.

Part of the job of being human is to consistently underestimate our effect on other people...

Through [my friends] I discovered what it was to love people. There was an art to it...which was not really all that different from the love that is necessary in the making of art. It required the effort of always seeing them for themselves and not as I wished them to be...

Miss Barry was a kindred spirit after all, Anne confided to Marilla, You wouldn't think so to look at her, but she is. . . Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.

You're not eating anything, said Marilla sharply, eying her as if it were a serious shortcoming. Anne sighed. I can't. I'm in the depths of despair. Can you eat when you are in the depths of despair? I've never been in the depths of despair, so I can't say, responded Marilla. Weren't you? Well, did you ever try to IMAGINE you were in the depths of despair? No, I didn't. Then I don't think you can understand what it's like. It's very uncomfortable a feeling indeed.

Hate is only love that has missed its way.

He was so lonely that he laughed at himself.