Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta.
There is a haughtiness of kindness which has the appearance of wickedness.[Es giebt einen Übermuth der Güte, welcher sich wie Bosheit ausnimmt.]
The world had somehow gone too far, and spontaneous kindness could never be so easy.
One man practicing kindness in the wilderness is worth all the temples this world pulls.
Nothing human disgusts me unless it’s unkind.
Never lose a chance of saying a kind word.
Kindness has its mishaps; often it is attributed to temperament; people are seldom willing to recognize it as the secret effort of a noble soul.[La bonté n’est pas sans écueils: on l’attribue au caractère, on veut rarement y reconnaître les efforts secrets d’une belle âme.]
Kindness and a caring mind are two separate qualities. Kindness is manners. It is superficial custom, an acquired practice. Not so the mind. The mind is deeper, stronger, and, I believe, it is far more inconstant.
Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.
In the world as I have seen it, no man grows rich by kindness.
Ignorant kindness may have the effect of cruelty; but to be angry with it as if it were direct cruelty would be an ignorant unkindness.
If you’ve ever been homesick, or felt exiled from all the things and people that once defined you, you’ll know how important welcoming words and friendly smiles can be.
