Whether one believes in a religion or not, and whether one believes in rebirth or not, there isn't anyone who read more

Whether one believes in a religion or not, and whether one believes in rebirth or not, there isn't anyone who doesn't appreciate kindness and compassion.

One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind.

One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind.

Kindness can become its own motive. We are made kind by being kind. -Eric Hoffer.

Kindness can become its own motive. We are made kind by being kind. -Eric Hoffer.

The Romans assisted their allies and friends, and acquired
friendships by giving rather than receiving kindness.
[Lat., Sociis read more

The Romans assisted their allies and friends, and acquired
friendships by giving rather than receiving kindness.
[Lat., Sociis atque amicis auxilia portabant Romani, magisque
dandis quam accipiundis beneficiis amicitias parabant.]

He who confers a favor should at once forget it, if he is not to show a sordid ungenerous spirit. read more

He who confers a favor should at once forget it, if he is not to show a sordid ungenerous spirit. To remind a man of a kindness conferred and to talk of it, is little different from reproach.

The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines. . read more

The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines. . -Charles Kuralt.

And Heaven, that every virtue bears in mind,
E'en to the ashes of the just is kind.

And Heaven, that every virtue bears in mind,
E'en to the ashes of the just is kind.

Both man and womankind belie their nature
When they are not kind.

Both man and womankind belie their nature
When they are not kind.

Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
read more

Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
The best I had, a princess wrought it me--
And I did never ask it you again;
And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time,
Saying, 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?'