Quotes About Empathy

I HAD a dove and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving: O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied, With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving; Sweet little red feet! why should you die - Why should you leave me, sweet bird! why? You liv'd alone in the forest-tree, Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me? I kiss'd you oft and gave you white peas; Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?

If it gets too bad, go. I'll understand." I won't.

I don't forgive him, I said. Hell, no, you don't. And why should you? So he can feel better? Get on with his life? And what's he done to help you get on with yours?

What's wrong? I didn't say a word. Something's up. What is it? Nothing. His head turned, gaze going to mine. Yeah? Yes. A snort and he returned to his bowl…

You want to keep looking? I asked. Yeah, maybe. I'll leave you to it, then. I started for the door. No. He said it quickly, and reached for my arm, but stopped before he touched me. I mean, if you're tired, sure, but you don't have to. Derek doesn't want her to leave ?

You think I led him on? For what? Kicks? I don't have enough exictement in my life, so maybe I'll tease a nice guy, get his hopes up, then laugh and skip away?

A G-Rated story? About taking some deformed baby and locking him up? And if it was true, and this poor guy had been locked up in there for decades, and someone threw in a perfectly good woman, what the hell do you think he'd do with her? Play Parcheesi?

Life experience. I can talk it up, vow to broaden my horizons, but I'm still limited to the experiences with my life. How can a person understand an experience that lies completely outside her own? She can see it, feel it, imagine what it would be like to live it, but it's no different from seeing a movie on a screen and saying, "Thank God that's not me".

I'd always thought of myself as an open-minded person. I had no patience with anyone who put down other kids because of their race, religion, or sexuality. But that's just one kind of open-mindedness. There's another kind, too, the kind that's willing to see people for who they really are and admit when you were wrong about them. That's the part I still need to work on.

Why is it that every time a girl says a guy is bothering her, it's fluffed off with oh, he just likes you, as if that makes it okay?

I put you through hell and then I only made it worse, all the mistakes I made trying to get you back.' 'I've forgiven you.' 'Forgive, yes. Understand, yes. Forget, no.

Believe me, I have better things to do than sabotage your friendships. No one else's world revolves around you, Cassandra. -Paige to Cassandra

Isn't it possible that I'm not feigning interest? That I really do want to know more about you? You've never been interested in me before. You've never been interesting before. -Cassandra and Paige

Gabriel might always have his own best interests at heart, but he expects everyone else to do the same for themselves. To him, we are all the center of our own universes.

I love that woman. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. I'll do whatever it takes to see that happen. Do you get that?

I can't stop wanting to help, and by 'help,' I really mean guide, and by 'guide,' I really mean protect. That has nothing to do with you and whether you can take care of yourself. It's about me and what I want, which is to make life easier for you, because I know it isn't easy and it's only getting harder, and I'm scrambling madly to smooth those rough edges before you get hurt.

As he talked, I thought, "Maybe I'm wrong about the guy." Put him with someone like Anna Gunderson, a nice woman who has suffered a great tragedy, and his empathetic side came out. And then I realized he was faking it.

Schizo. It didn't matter how many times Dr. Gill compared it to a disease or physical disability, it wasn't the same thing. It just wasn't. I had schizophrenia. If I saw two guys on the sidewalk, one in a wheelchair and one talking talking to himself, which would I rush to open a door for, and which would I cross the road to avoid?

This was a doctor. Sworn to heal, not to judge. But judge she did, in the twist of her lips and the chill of her tone.

I had no patience with anyone who put down other kids because of their race, religion, or sexuality. But that's just one kind of open-mindedness. There's another kind, too, the kind that's willing to see people for who they really are and admit when you were wrong about them.

God, it's like talking to a cyborg sometimes. You pretend to listen, but really, you've just gone on pause, waiting for me to stop so you can reiterate your original point.

He watched as her sister read it. Watched as her face crumpled, as her shoulders shook. Ashy. Caught her and held her, and they fell against each other.

We need to slow down for you. You're in pain and you're not going to remind us of that." "It isn't that bad. Really. I--" "See? Gotta be a tough guy." I lowered my voice so the others wouldn't hear. "How's your head?" "I didn't hit my head. Not yet anyway." "You know what I mean. Your headaches." "I'm fine.

You could stay here," I said softly. "If he does leave." He rubbed his arms, like he was getting cold. His gaze was down, but his jaw was set in that way I knew well, ready to refuse. Only he didn't want to refuse. He wanted to know that if it came down to that, his dad leaving, he could stay here. I could see that worry and that need wearing away at his pride until finally he grunted, "Yeah. Okay.