Again, again–and it was not the ear that heard the pulsing rhythm, it was the midriff; the wail and clang of those recurring harmonies haunted, not the mind, but the yearning bowels of compassion.
The President reached out his hand; and suddenly a Voice, a deep strong Voice, more musical than any merely human voice, richer, warmer, more vibrant with love and yearning and compassion, a wonderful, mysterious, supernatural Voice spoke from above their heads.
Grief and remorse, compassion and duty–all were forgotten now and, as it were, absorbed into an intense overpowering hatred of these less than human monsters.
There are no more uses of "compassion" in the book.
Show samples from other sources
If I see one hungry child, I feel compassion, but when I hear of a million hungry children, I’m overwhelmed and turn my mind to other things.
It is not enough to be compassionate. We must act. It is not enough to act. We must act with intelligence.