I know the compassion of others is a relief at first. I don't despise it. But it can't quench pain, it slips through your soul as through a sieve. And when our suffering has been dragged from one pity to another, as from one mouth to another, we can no longer respect or love it.
Georges Bernanos, Rémy Rougeau (2002). “The Diary of a Country Priest”, p.261, Da Capo Press