Quotes About Empathy

And I know I'm not alone. As badly as I have hurt him,

Let her go. Better to waste a day than another month. Maybe a little tour of Twelve is just what she needs to convince her we're on the same side.

And he would put his arms around her and hold her, but he had no idea what to tell her. In his mind, Gregor knew how to kill things, not bring them back ti life.

Tell her," said Tigris, "that I am rooting for her." "Tell her," the Grandma'am added, "that we are all so sorry she has to die.

Many are still out on the street, trying to find shelter for the night. Those who live in the choice apartments of the inner city have not flung open their doors to house the displaced. On the contrary, most of them bolted their locks, drew their shutters, and pretended to be out.

Everything. That's what Peeta wants me to take from him.

the more I come to know these people, the worse it is. Because, on the whole, I don't hate them. And some I like. And a lot of them are so damaged that my natural instinct would be to protect them. But

Then the raw hunk of meat that used to be my enemy makes a sound, and I know where his mouth is. And I think the word he's trying to say is please. Pity, not vengeance, sends my arrow flying into his skull. Peeta

I'm sorry. About screaming at you yesterday." "I've heard worse," she says. "You've seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.

it's like they can read my thoughts. "The locket didn't work, did it?" Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. "Katniss?

finger to my lips. "It's different for you. I'm not saying it wouldn't be hard. But there are other people

It brings on the flood of images that torments me, awake or asleep. Peeta being tortured — drowned, burned, lacerated, shocked, maimed, beaten — as the Capitol tries to get information about the rebellion that he doesn't know. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach for him across the hundreds and hundreds of miles, to send my thoughts into his mind, to let him know he is not alone. But he is. And I can't help him.

As Finnick moves to take my seat before the camera, Haymitch tells him, "You don't have to do this." "Yes, I do. If it will help her." Finnick balls up his rope in his hand. "I'm ready.

Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated?

I had to forgive Finnick for his role in the conspiracy that landed me here. He, at least, has some idea of what I'm going through. And it takes too much energy to stay angry with someone who cries so much.

Like bait?" I say to the ceiling. "Like how they'll use Annie for bait, Finnick?" I can hear him weeping but I don't care.

You know how to kill." "Not people," I say. "How different can it be, really?" says Gale grimly.

I know he's been through hell and back, and yet somehow the observation rubs me the wrong way. "Well, you've looked better.

And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I've been through." "Yeah. We've all been through a lot. And you're the one who was known for being nice. Not me.

Perhaps the people of District Twelve are not quite so bad as you paint them.

So what do you remember?" "You. In the rain," he says softly. "Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead.

Why don't they leave? Why do they stay to watch? And now I know. It's because you have to.

My time in the arena made me realize how I needed to stop punishing her 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 make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play.