Sympathetic people often don't communicate well, they back reflected images which hide their own depths.

... it is because sympathy is but a living again through our own past in a new form, that confession often prompts a response of confession.

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us.

Many an irritating fault, many an unlovely oddity, has come of a hard sorrow.

He was one of those men, and they are not the commonest, of whom we can know the best only by following them away from the marketplace, the platform, and the pulpit, entering with them into their own homes, hearing the voice with which they speak to the young and aged about their own hearthstone, and witnessing their thoughtful care for the everyday wants of everyday companions, who take all their kindness as a matter of course, and not as a subject for panegyric.

The tale of the Divine Pity was never yet believed from lips that were not felt to be moved by human pity.

Who has not felt the beauty of a woman's arm? The unspeakable suggestions of tenderness that lie in the dimpled elbow, and all the varied gently-lessening curves, down to the delicate wrist, with its tiniest, almost imperceptible nicks in the firm softness.