Quotes About Empathy

You know, Savannah, if you cry, I won't tell anyone,' Ken said quietly. 'I promise.

You have no idea how much I appreciate your friendship," Jules said. Sam held out several bills. "Yeah, actually I do," he said. "It's probably as much as I appreciate yours.

Bobby laughed. Not at loud. He would never laugh in his best friend face when he went into overprotected brother mode. But inside in his own head, he was rolling over the floor in hysterics. Outside of his head, he only lifted a quizzed eyebrow.

Would you look at that? Richards is a woman. I hadn't realized. We better make her stay behind, Captain. She might get PMS and go postal.

Bobby laughed. Not aloud. He would never laugh in his best friend's face when he went into overprotective brother mode. But inside of his own head, he was rolling on the floor in hysterics.

See? All guys have lists. It's a guy thing," he protested, not old enough to know that all either of them could do now was grovel, apologize and pray for forgiveness.

He could see it in all their faces, too. Especially

he'd been staring at her breasts again. Her eyes were no longer soft. "You do that all the time, you know." Her voice shook slightly. Damn, he'd gone and pissed her off again. And after she'd been looking at him so warmly. "I'm sorry." "I hate it when men like you do that. When you carry on entire conversations with my chest.

If you want, I can carry you—" "I'm fine," she said shortly. "Let's go." He'd said that wrong. He should have said, "I want to carry you.

As long as I've got a book, it doesn't matter where I am. I can instantly be a million miles away, in a completely different place, on a different planet even. I can be someone else, you know? When it gets too complicated to be myself.

All that is worth cherishing begins in the heart.

All that is worth cherishing begins in the heart, not the head.

You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.

I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.

Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen when we get home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.

Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

The idea of being strong for someone else having never entered their heads, I find myself in the position of having to console them. Since I'm the person going in to be slaughtered, this is somewhat annoying.

I realize, for the first time, how very lonely I've been in the arena. How comforting the presence of another human being can be.

In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.

You're punishing him over and over for things that are out of his control.

My time in the arena made me realize how I needed to stop punishing [my mother] for something she couldn't help, specifically the crushing depression she fell into after my father's death. Because sometimes things happen to people and they're not equipped to deal with them.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta's not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking of me. Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel.

It's funny, because even though they're rattling on about the Games, it's all about where they were or what they were doing or how they felt when a specific event occurred. . . . Everything is about them, not the dying boys and girls in the arena