It is lack of love for ourselves that inhibits our compassion toward others. If we make friends with ourselves, then read more

It is lack of love for ourselves that inhibits our compassion toward others. If we make friends with ourselves, then there is no obstacle to opening our hearts and minds to others.

How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with read more

How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these.

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she read more

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.

Compassion is no substitute for justice.

Compassion is no substitute for justice.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also,
and he praiseth her.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also,
and he praiseth her.

The mind is no match with the heart in persuasion constitutionality is no match with compassion.

The mind is no match with the heart in persuasion constitutionality is no match with compassion.

Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is read more

Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.

[Milton] calls the university "A stony-hearted step-mother."

[Milton] calls the university "A stony-hearted step-mother."

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So read more

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet within a month--
Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman--
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she--
O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourned longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules.