Quotes About Empathy

Say less than the other fellow and listen more than you talk; for when a man's listening he isn't telling on himself and he's flattering the fellow who is.

Consider carefully before you say a hard word to a man, but never let a chance to say a good one go by.

Books were her easiest friends. They demanded nothing from her but her attention.

You must think I'm some kind of nut, but it's just . . . I don't know, it's just that I can't take what's happening in the world. I can't take all these people getting shot. I can't take this war. I just thought we were supposed to be better than that. I really did believe we were on the dawn of a new age.

I'm such a mother hen. If my chicks are doing well, I cluck happily. And you can be the rooster, darling. To love a child is to let go of the child you dreamed of having and accept the one you've got, as they are, not as you want them to be.

Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most? When they done good and made things easy for everybody? Well then, you ain't through learning-because that ain't the time at all...when you starts measuring somebody, measure him right, child, measure him right. Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is.

How we gets to the place where we scared to talk softness to each other.

I care. I care about it all. It takes too much energy NOT to care...the WHY of why we are here is an intrigue for adolescents; the HOW is what must command the living. Which is why I have lately become an insurgent again.

Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most? When he's done good and made things easy for everybody? That ain't the time at all. It's when he's at his lowest……and he can't believe in himself because the world's whipped him so!

Why couldn't women understand that hate could not hurt if there was no semblance of love?

Where do you find your faith in me, Catherine?" "From coming to know you.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Clay walk to his wagon, where he'd find no shade. Isolated. Alone. How simple it would be to prepare him a plate and walk to the wagon to give it to him. How difficult to step into his world of loneliness.

Meg forgot about cautioning him to be quiet. She forgot about everything but watching the care with which he wrapped a blanket around Mama Warner before gingerly lifting her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. "Comfortable?" he asked. "You know how to hold a woman so she feels precious. Makes me wish I was sixty years younger.

With a book, she could at least visit with people, even if it was vicariously, even if they didn't exist beyond someone's imagination.

You can't imagine how much it hurts to be ignored by people… you respect. You don't know how loud the silence is or how deeply it cuts. It's bad enough watching the hatred touch my brothers. I'd rather die than see it touch you.

He was lying in bed with the woman he loved . . . a woman he couldn't make love to. He closed his eyes. More than any­thing in this world, he wanted this woman to be happy. He'd give her anything, do anything to make her happy. Even if it made his own life hell.

Wait here, Miz Meg, and we'll holler when we're undressed and under the covers. We know it don't bother you seein' our backsides since you're a widow and all, but it'd sure bother us… even though you've seen "em before. We kinda like to keep 'em to ourselves

Dr. Freeman said she couldn't have children. Christ, I'll never touch her again." "You'll touch her," Houston said. Dallas looked up, determination etched deeply in the lines of his face. "No, I won't." "Yes, you will. One night, she'll curl up against you, all innocent-like—" Compassion, understanding, and a wealth of sympathy filled Houston's gaze. "You'll touch her.

She wondered if any of them had truly understood the cost of what they were asking of each other.

I understand why you did what you did. Perhaps a part of me even admires you for it. But I can't forgive you for it.

The one thing I learned in my youth as a grave robber was that everyone looks the same when they're dead. We're all equal then. So when I meet a chap, sitting on his high horse, I imagine him dead. He's not quite so intimidating then.

of each other, and I daresay we'd all be rather boring.

Yes, well, I'm not at all surprised by that revelation, but you see I'm making love to her and that requires a certain finesse, which I doubt your father has the wherewithal to possess.

That is what is wrong with cold people. Not that they have ice in their souls - we all have a bit of that - but that they insist every word and deed mirror that ice. They never learn the beauty or value of gesture. The emotional necessity. For them, it is all honesty before kindness, truth before art. Love is art, not truth. It's like painting scenery.