There was kindness in his smile, a gentleness. It was the smile of one who laughed with ease and saw person under the behaviour, a soul-connector. He was the kind of person who lived how he believed people should, as if he were sunshine that only radiated from the best aspects of those he met, their flaws entirely invisible to his gaze. He was a calm sea, dancing birdsong and the new buds of spring. Yet, most of all, he was my friend.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), May 14, 2018.

Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.

By Paige Keating, April 13, 2014.

Authored by Mark Twain, here.


In this life, my good friend, you aren't the fountains in the park or the fireworks on the fourth of July. You aren't a fine wine or an aged cheese. You are fresh air and clean water, you are rich soil for the harvest and the sweet spring rain. You are all the things we don't know we need or love so dearly, until they are gone. So now that we swim in the tidewater of our sixth decades, it's time to tell you what you mean to me, what you mean to all those lives you have touched. No-one can change the world in a single stroke, my love, but with each kind deed you made all the difference in the world and I feel blessed to know you.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), January 28, 2015.

She had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her black skin was completely flawless. I doubt she used face masks or expensive products, that really wasn't her m.o. She was all about simplicity, making things easy, helping those around her to relax and be happy with what they have. Perhaps that is why her skin glowed so, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled and laughed you couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in her company was to feel that you too were someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), December 4, 2014.

Her eyes were filled with a kindness that seemed so innocent and geniuine so endless: as big as the sea. It set him aright and made him happy. Her lands lapsed with him holding them for a second and squeezing kindly. She patted him on the back.

Kindness is that of what we are made of and yet have no part of it when it comes to whichever event. Sometimes its none-existant yet sometimes its almost physical. So why then don't we embrace it? Do we let our cruel nature on purpose. Wouldn't you prefer to be comforted rather then scorned and laughed it. Yet why does cruelty always get the better of us. Is it nature? Or is kindness and cruelty a choice?

By thomasg, August 11, 2014.

Horse whisperers take the approach of love and kindness. They don’t lean in and speak in a special equine language, they let the horse run free in a pen. When she stops they signal the horse and if she stands they will pet her like her mother did, with soft body contact. When she wants to run away they let her run it out. When she tires of that she’ll come back for more petting. The process repeats, the horse learns to trust them and then they begin to work together in a positive relationship. What is the “traditional” approach? To “break” a horse? Whips, fear, beating - often ending in sending the horse for slaughter when it is too traumatized to be of use. Why do we treat horses this way? Do we treat people this way? Can we see the same approach in our homes and schools? Do we control our children with fear tactics? Isn't that how the education system began?

By Angela Abraham (daisy), November 19, 2015.

Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by Daisy.