Empathy is about finding echoes of another person in yourself.
There is one purpose to life and one only: to bear witness to and understand as much as possible of the complexity of the world - its beauty, its mysteries, its riddles. The more you understand, the more you look, the greater is your enjoyment of life and your sense of peace. That's all there is to it. If an activity is not grounded in 'to love' or 'to learn,' it does not have value.
I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it;Although I hoped that late or soonSomeone would praise a bitIts purity and grace forlone,Its beauty tulip-cool...But as my poem died still-born,I felt a fool.I wrote a verse of vulgar trendSpiced with an oath or two;I tacked a snapper at the endAnd called it Dan McGrew.I spouted it to bar-room boys,Full fifty years away;Yet still with rude and ribald noiseIt lives today.'Tis bitter truth, but there you are-That's how a name is made;Write of a rose, a lark, a star,You'll never make the grade.But write of gutter and of grime,Of pimp and prostitute,The multitude will read your rhyme,And pay to boot.So what's the use to burn and bleedAnd strive for beauty's sake?No one your poetry will read,Your heart will only break.But set your song in vulgar pitch,If rhyme you will not rue,And make your heroine a bitch...Like Lady Lou.
In order to form correct habits, we should seek the company of persons of sound moral and religious influence. We should constantly bear in mind that we may be fitting to inhabit the heavenly courts. The precious hours of probation are granted that we may remove every defect from the character; and we should seek to do this, not only that we may obtain the future life, but that we may be useful here. Young men and women should regard a good character as a capital of more value than gold or silver or stocks. It will be unaffected by panics and failures, and will bring rich returns when earthly possessions shall be swept away.
LEONATOWell, then, go you into hell?BEATRICENo, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say 'Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here's no place for you maids:' so deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the heavens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.