Compassion (n.) is usury among men: the fortunate buy God's friendship cheap with a mite, a visit without danger, a bit of sympathy that seasons their luxury — and when there is danger they chase the unfortunate into the desert.
Compassion (n.) needs neither hands nor legs: with hands cut off I cannot play the zither, crippled on the shore I cannot plunge in to save a life — but I can be compassionate everywhere.
Compassion (n.) cannot be painted: you can paint a poor woman giving away a loaf, but not that it is the only one she owns; the artist prefers the gift, the great achievement that looks best painted.
Compassion (n.) shown by the ill-treated who can do nothing is the most beautiful and truest — to deny it them because it cannot be pictured, except as an object of compassion, would add a new cruelty to their misery.
Compassion (n.) such as a poor, ungifted daughter's, inexhaustible in doing the little nothing she can for her mother, stands embarrassed whenever the rich benefactor arrives — “he can do so much”; his compassion obscures hers.
Compassion (n.) can be shown by the unfortunate toward the fortunate: their sorrow-filled lives are a dangerous indictment of Providence, and by suffering quietly so as not to disturb others' happiness they show the greater mercy.
Compassion (n.) is seen best in the half-shilling, not the hundred thousand, which have an accidental glitter that draws the senses — as you watch a stone's ripples not in a waterfall or the sea but in a small quiet pool.
Compassion (n.) does not arouse amazement; if you are amazed, you may be sure it is not compassion you see — it touches you, making the most intimate impression because it is inwardness.
Compassion (n.) from the untried is a misunderstanding, often a painful one for the sufferer; true compassion requires having been tried in like manner.
Compassion (n.) shrinks back and would rather stay sympathetically on the safe shore, or wade only partway out; Christ's went farther out than the sufferer himself.
Compassion (n.) practises usury: the fortunate give a mite from abundance or visit when there is no danger, buying God's favour cheaply, and when there is danger they drive the unfortunate into the desert so his cry will not disturb the dancing.