Quotes About Empathy

Melt all the guns, I thought, break the knives, burn the guillotines-and the malicious will still write letters that kill.

Some boys walk by and you cry, seeing them. They feel good, they look good, they are good. Oh, they're not above peeing off a bridge, or stealing an occasional dime-store pencil sharpener; it's not that. It's just, you know, seeing them pass, that's how they'll be all their life; they'll get hit, hurt, cut, bruised, and always wonder why, why does it happen? how can it happen to them?

She wanted to get at the hate of them all, to pry at it and work at it until she found a little chink, and then pull out a pebble or a stone or a brick and then a part of the wall, and, once started, the whole edifice might roar down and be done away with.

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer.

I'll be darned! said Douglas. I never thought of that. That's brilliant! It's true. Old people never were children! And it's kind of sad, said Tom, sitting still.There's nothing we can do to help them.

And, after all, isn't that what life is all about, the ability to go around back and come up inside other people's heads to look out at the damned fool miracle and say: oh, so that's how you see it!? Well, now, I must remember that.

What is Love? perhaps we may find that love is the ability of someone to give us back to us. Maybe love is someone seeing and remembering, handing us back to ourselves just a trifle better than we had dared to hope or dream...

love cushions all your irritations, unnatural instincts, hatreds and immaturities.

Because her flesh knows heat, cold, affliction, I know fire, snow, and pain.

Me? I'm the original sad man. I read a book and it makes me sad. See a film: sad. Plays? they really work me over.

Nimeni nu mai are timp ?i pentru ceilal?i.

It followed then that when Hitler burned a book I felt it as keenly, please forgive me, as his killing a human, for in the long sum of history they are one and the same flesh.

We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at least one which makes the heart run over.

Non possiamo dire in quale preciso momento nasca l'amicizia. Come nel riempire una caraffa a goccia a goccia, c'è finalmente una stilla che la fa traboccare, così in una sequela di atti gentili ce n'è infine uno che fa traboccare il cuore.

Ideas—written ideas—are special. They are the way we transmit our stories and our thoughts from one generation to the next. If we lose them, we lose our shared history. We lose much of what makes us human. And fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.

We cannot tell the precise moment when a friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at least one which makes the heart run over.

You laugh when I haven't been funny and you answer right off. You never stop to think what I've asked you.

The people there were gods and midgets and knew themselves mortal and so the midgets walked tall so as not to embarrass the gods and the gods crouched so as to make the small ones feel at home.

But most of all, I like to watch people. Sometimes I ride the subway all day and look at them and listen to them. I just want to figure out who they are and what they want and where they are going.

And fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes.

Once in a lifetime anyway, it's nice to make a mistake if you think it'll do somebody some good, she

We salt our lives with other people's sins.

insanlar daha çok meÅŸaleye benziyorlard?;birileri üfleyinceye kadar yanarlard?.Ne kadar nadir diÄŸer insanlar?n yüzleri sizi sizden al?p,kendi duygular?n?z? en titrek düÅŸüncelerinizi sizlere yans?t?rd??

fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.