Quotes About Empathy

The deepest wounds aren't the ones we get from other people hurting us. They are the wounds we give ourselves when we hurt other people.

So long as little children are allowed to suffer, there is no true love in this world.

Someone else's material needs are my spiritual responsibility.

Don't kill!... The fly is asking you To save his life By rubbing his hands together

Everyone loves justice in the affairs of another.

One reads alone, even in another's presence.

Today each of you is the object of the other's reading, one reads in the other the unwritten story.

La lettura è solitudine. Si legge da soli anche quando si è in due.

Maybe you have to become a mother to get to the real sense of everything. Or a prostitute.

Now that he is no longer here I should be interested in so many things: philosophy, politics, history. I follow the news, read books, but they befuddle me. What he meant to say is not there, for he understood something else, something that was all-embracing, and he could not say it in words but only by living as he did.

I felt in harmony with the disharmony of others, myself, and the world.

A human being becomes human not through the casual convergence of certain biological conditions, but through an act of will and love on the part of other people. If this is not the case, then humanity becomes — as it is already to a large extent — no more than a rabbit-warren. But this is no longer a "free-range" warren but a "battery" one, in the conditions of artificiality in which it lives, with artificial light and chemical feed.

With my spyglass I can observe a woman who is reading on a terrace in the valley," I told her. "I wonder if the books she reads are calming or upsetting." "How does the woman seem to you? Calm or upset?" "Calm." "Then she reads upsetting books.

Perhaps, for each of them, I also resembled someone who was dead. I had barely arrived at Adelma and I was already one of them, I had gone over to their side, absorbed in that kaleidescope of eyes, wrinkles, grimaces.

Think what it would be like to have a work conceived from outside the self, a work that would let us escape the limited perspective of the individual ego, not only to enter into selves like our own but to give speech to that which has no language, to the bird perching on the edge of the gutter, to the tree in spring and the tree in fall, to cement, to plastic.

??c là ni?m cô ??n.

La conoscenza del prossimo ha questo di speciale: passa necessariamente attraverso la conoscenza di se stesso.

Your reading is no longer solitary: you think of the Other Reader, who, at this same moment, is also opening the book; and there, the novel to be read is superimposed by a possible novel to be lived, the continuation of your story with her, or better still, the beginning of a possible story.

Um sentimento dominante não tarda a apresentar-se em seguida, impondo-se sobre todo e qualquer outro pensamento: e é o alívio por se saber que todos os problemas são problemas dos outros, que é tudo lá com eles. Aos mortos já não deveria interessar mais nada de nada, porque já não lhes diz respeito pensar em nada disso; e mesmo que isso possa parecer imoral, é nesta irresponsabilidade que os mortos encontram a sua alegria.

Azt vallom tehát, hogy akkor használjuk helyesen a nyelvet, hogyha tapintatosan, figyelmesen és óvatosan közelítünk vele a (jelen lév? vagy hiányzó) dolgokhoz, tiszteletben tartva azt, amit a (jelen lév? vagy hiányzó) dolgok szavak nélkül is közölnek.

What is more natural than that a solidarity, a complicity, a bond should be established between Reader and Reader, thanks to the book?

But our mother, the most distant from him, perhaps, seemed the only one who could accept him as he was, maybe because she didn't try to find an explanation.

A human being becomes human not through the casual convergence of certain biological conditions, but through an act of will and love on the part of other people.

An outsider was taking my place, was becoming me, my cage with the starlings would become his, the stereoscope, the real Uhlan helmet hanging from a nail, all my things that I couldn't take with me remained to him; or, rather, it was my relationship with things, places, people, that was becoming his, just as I was about to become him, to take his place among the things and people of his life.