Quotes About Empathy

Love is a willingness to sacrifice.

Love is not a feeling of happiness. Love is a willingness to sacrifice.

And as you see, poor Idris was...persuaded,shall we say? Yes,persuaded to tell me about Tyre and his own route back to Al-Kal'as from there. Faysal, reveal to her his pain." The Captain of the Guard dragged Idris forward. Faysal then ripped away his shirt, and Aminah gasped. Angry scars laced his bare chest, some of the burns still crusted and weeping. Tears tumbled down Aminah's face, but Idris did not raise his head to see them. "Forgive me" he mumered.

I was able to give them a little candy and a little hope, but they were able to fill me up with so much more.

She had grown older. And he loved her more now than he had loved her when he understood her better, when she was the product of her parents. What she was now was what she herself had decided to become.

She entered the story knowing she would emerge from it feeling she had been immersed in the lives of others, in plots that stretched back twenty years, her body full of sentences and moments, as if awaking from sleep with a heaviness caused by unremembered dreams.

Don't we forgive everything of a lover? We forgive selfishness, desire, guile. As long as we are the motive for it.

If the execution of a million or more sentient beings, the destruction of a dozen planetary communities, isn't enough—if the members of the Council need a living victim paraded in front of them to move them to act—then shame on them. And shame on us.

Remember, your dad loves you and he always wanted more for you than he ever wanted for himself. And if he pushes your buttons, just tell yourself that he's a master at doing that because he's the one who installed them in the first place.

We all cast our own shadows and chose where they fall, and the lives of men and women and otters and dogs and whales are linked forever across the reaches of time. We distance ourselves from them with our hunger for flesh, or our carelessness, or our cruelty. But what of the forces that bind us together?

Let there be no mistake. A gay man alone could never begin to replicate the inner workings of the female mind.

Looking at the world from other species' points of view is a cure for the disease of human self-importance.

Only when you bring value to others, will you bring value to yourself.

If a dense human still fails to get the message, reach over and touch the item you intend for them to share, or touch an arm or cheek with your paw.

I think this galaxy would be a whole lot nicer and more pleasant place to live if we all just stop killing one another. Who's with me on this?" A few chuckles and a couple of faux cheers were the response. "You're a visionary," I-Five told him. "Float it past Palpatine, see what he thinks," Uli suggested.

To surrender to callousness or despair in the face of such sorrow was to be revealed as its accomplice.

Charity should be blind to everything but need. Our personal feelings should not determine whose starvation is legitimate.

I'm really busted up over this and I'm very, very sorry to those people in the audience, the blacks, the Hispanics, whites - everyone that was there that took the brunt of that anger and hate and rage and how it came through.

I don't know why people keep trying to help me like this. They should be heading for the hills. Ali says I inspire loyalty but I seem to be taking kindness that I can never hope to repay. I am not a perfect human being. I'm a cynic and a pessimist and sometimes I feel as though I'm locked into this life by an accident of birth. But at times like this, a random act of kindness or the touch of another human being makes me believe I can be different, better, redeemed.

What is the point of sharing your life with someone if you can't communicate with them about the things that matter?

Getting to know patients is what I do. I learn about their deepest fears and secrets. A professional relationship becomes a personal one. It can be no other way. (190)

Michael Leunig cartoon showing a tiny sad-eyed man with a noose around his neck. The rope was curled over a beam with a large bucket tied to the other end. As the man cried, his tears filled the bucket and lifted him higher and higher off the ground. Evie is that figure, standing on her tiptoes, filling a bucket with

Audie had never been a hater, because when people hate with too much energy it's normally something about themselves they hate the most.

Her pale fat throat seems to have a fist inside it, moving up and down.