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I feel sympathy for the working class lad. I’ve always championed about ticket prices and try to equate that to people’s salaries.
But what you could perhaps do with in these days is a word of most sincere sympathy. Your movement is carried internally by so strong a truth and necessity that victory in one form or another cannot elude you for long.
According to your sympathy, you will take pleasure in your own happiness or in the happiness of other people but it is always your own happiness you seek.
I don’t care about sympathy. I care about playing a character who’s understandable and clear.
I’m not going to give a courtesy gift to a person who’s going to win, and I’m not going to give a sympathy gift to a person who’s going to lose.
It is in Rousseau’s writing above all that history begins to turn from upper-class honour to middle-class humanitarianism. Pity, sympathy and compassion lie at the centre of his moral vision. Values associated with the feminine begin to infiltrate social existence as a whole, rather than being confined to the domestic sphere.
I can hardly express in words my deep feeling and sympathy for them, knowing as I do, the many serious handicaps and obstacles that will confront them in almost every walk of life.
Recognition of belligerency as an expression of sympathy is all very well.
Like many people, most Libertarians feel empathy and sympathy for less fortunate people. But they know you can’t have perfection in a world of limited resources.
Here’s my rule: You always want to pay cash for your own books, because if they look at the name on the credit card and then they look at the name on the book jacket, then there’s this look of such profound sympathy for you that you had to resort to this. It really is withering.