The glory of fame isn't in having so many people know you, but in having so many people know you care. Otherwise, it's like being drawn to a fire to find no warmth.

Why must you know the details of my troubles to have compassion? Is it not enough to show compassion simply because you know that everyone has troubles?

Walk with me for a while, my friend—you in my shoes, I in yours—and then let us talk.

Compassion only plagues those with hearts, much like a field of thorns only troubles those who bleed.

If we simply imagined that everyone who crossed our path was living out his or her very last day on Earth, we might treat people as kindly as we ought to each day they lived.

Kindness is going out of your way to perform favors regarded as wonderful by the recipient.