Quotes About Empathy

Do you know what's so strange, Uilleam?" she asked, saying his name perfectly. "You have never, in your entire life, done something for which you should truly be ashamed. You think you have, but you haven't. Not until you hurt your own mate, blaming the poor girl for things she can't control." - NIX to MacRieve ~

He gave her an indulgent look. I'll forgive these rash words for now. She sputtered, Forgive? Let's talk about who should be forgiving who. Whom, he corrected. Shut up! I'm in the right here. Remember all those things you did to me?

Because of one unsuccessful beheading?" She tapped her claw to her chin. "Wow. I never thought you were such a pussy. I'm rethinking our friendship.

Lachlain said, Before you go, I wanted to pass on some advice. Emma told me that to win your mate, you have to accept Regin. The two are thick as thieves. Always have been. Since they were children. So calling Regin a glowing bluidy freak dinna help my cause? On top of the lie? Christ, I've bollixed this up.

Easy, female," Cade soothed as he crept closer to where Holly huddled naked in a corner. ... When he began unbuttoning his shirt to cover her, she gave a cry, and bloody claws swiped out at him. Then she stared in horror at her fingertips. ... When he removed his shirt, she bared her small fangs and hissed, then looked aghast at her reaction. "There, now, a good hiss never hurt anyone.

Look, I think maybe we've been hurt so often that even if someone harms us accidentally, we're blind to see it that way.

Those years ago when I was down in that basement, I wish I had known that on the other side of the world, there was a bold little girl fighting for her pride. And that she would come into my life one day to make it brighter.

The judgiest people are the ones who've lived the least.

Why do you keep coming back just to sit beside my bed?" Seeming surprised by the question, he'd answered in a gravelly voice, This is . . . satisfying. To me. I find it deeply so.

And the bleak one? Bowen? What's his damage? Why does he look so bad? He lost someone verra close to him. I'm sorry, she said softly. When did it happen? Early eighteen hundreds. And he still hasn't recovered? He's gotten worse. Lachlain rested his forehead against hers. It's our nature, Emma.

How could he be so good to me when I'd hurt him so deeply? I remembered his blood-curdling roar when I'd ridden away from him—to be with Jack. . . . As

You can tell? You always had trouble reading him." Nod. "Three months' practice." "But you can't read his future?" Matthew's brows drew together. "Never wanted this to happen." "Can you tell him we're coming for him?

I despise judgmental people." "As do most creatures who deserve to be judged." "You got me. I'm a ho fo sho.

So cry me a river about your brother's single vivisection. Also, understand me: I can trash-talk Nix - she's my oldest friend - but no one else had better do so in my presence.

men. She remembered her granny telling her, "Men

If I could change it all for you, if it were in my power to spare you, I would do so. If I could trade places with you, I would. But I can only be here with you, and I will tell you this: you are not broken, and every inch of you is dear to me and whole.

One never really knew just how taxing pain was till one was free of it and could feel the difference.

There comes a time, when you have to realize that you're not responsible for the whole world.

The picture made me heartsick. What could it be like, shut up inside with everything you feel – never having the relief of expression, never sharing anything or releasing anything or trying it out on somebody else? Never asking questions? Only yourself to talk to. Only yourself to listen. Never to be understood. Understood. Not to be loved for what you are. Never to be known.

Then we were quiet. Quiet isn't easy. Especially with virtual strangers. They say that nature hates a vacuum, and so it's kind of natural to want to fill up a human silence with words—any kind of lame words. But there was such a feeling of space around us that my first self-conscious word died long before I ever felt it on my tongue.

If you think beauty insipid, you haven't experienced it. Nor is it always devoid of suffering. That's something religious artists have always understood, Michelangelo, Chagall, and Van Gogh, Beethoven, C.S. Lewis, and all the writer's for whom beauty is a gift and a calling.

the eye is the window to the soul, and from the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, why can't we all be blind and dumb?

It was not so much that he was shut out, but that she was trapped inside.

If she looked into a fractured mirror, she'd see what he saw.