Quotes About Empathy

That only by forgiveness could she forget - and that forgiveness was not a single act, but a matter of constant practice.

I wept for him while he was still alive to know it

The obvious—to allow Jamie to see the boy." "And the other obvious—to allow you to see Jamie.

I only wondered Ã¢â'¬Â¦ have you Ã¢â'¬Â¦ been quite alone all this time? Since your wife died?

Friends' meeting is not only a fellowship of worship. It is Ã¢â'¬Â¦ a community of mind, of heart. A larger family

Well, he is human. And perhaps he's not a monster yet.

reached out and squeezed Fiona's hand. She

The only thing you can do—the only thing—is to try for the one who's in front of you. Act as though this one patient is the only person in the world—because to do otherwise is to lose that one, too. One at a time, that's all you can do. And you learn not to despair over all the ones you can't help, but only to do what you can.

Three days before his scheduled departure, he rose in the morning with the conviction that he must speak with Fraser, somehow. Not in the stiff manner of an interview between paroled prisoner and officer of the Crown—simply a few words, as man to man. If he could have that, he could go back to London with an easy heart, knowing that sometime, somewhere, there was the possibility that they might be friends again, even if that time and place could not be here and now.

But mad passion wasn't a necessary prerequisite for tenderness or consideration, was it?

The big Scot had sat by the man's side all night, listening, encouraging, comforting. Grey had stood by the door, not wishing to frighten the man by the sight of his uniform, both surprised and oddly touched at Fraser's gentleness.

Grey seized him by the shoulders, seeking to ease him back. "Henry, my dear. Do forgive me. I didn't mean—

He felt a moment's passionate gratitude to her. He'd seen her look at the boy, and knew how she must feel. She'd known about the lad, of course, but seeing the flesh-and-blood proof that her husband had shared another woman's bed wasn't something a wife should be asked to put up with. Little wonder if she was inclined to stick pins in John, him pushing the lad under her nose as he had.

It was one thing to know Christ as God and Savior and all the other capital-letter things that went with that. It was another to realize with shocking clarity that, bar the nails, he knew exactly how Jesus of Nazareth had felt. Alone. Betrayed, terrified, wrenched away from those he loved, and wanting with every atom of one's being to stay alive.

I won't forget you, she said silently to the dead. It seemed so pitiful a thing to say—so small and futile. And yet the only thing in her power.

No dicen que la felicidad es la persona capaz de hacer que uno se recomponga cuando está roto?

John—well." He lifted his shoulders and let them drop. "I couldna give him what he wanted—and he is friend enough not to ask it.

How little you know of women, my love," I said.

What hurts you cleaves my heart," he said softly. "Ye ken that, aye?

You can talk to a babe, ye ken,' she said suddenly, breaking into my thought. 'Really talk, I mean. You can tell them anything, no matter how foolish it would sound did ye say it to a soul could understand ye.

wasn't crying. Grief and shock simply overflowed; I could not contain them.

We push experience aside and forget about people far too quickly.

The state has no right to cast people aside because they are sick or disabled.

I guess maybe when you get past 70, other people start asking you how you feel.