Anger (n.) is always for Cleon, never for 'man' in general.
Anger (n.) is the strong desire to return pain for pain.
Anger (n.) is a foot soldier that must never be made the general.
Anger (n.) strikes faster than hatred, because the angry do not follow rational principle.
Anger (n.) is hard to fight, said Heraclitus, "for it gives its life for what it desires."
Anger (n.) is easy, but to be angry with the right man at the right time and in the right manner, that is not easy.
Anger (n.) is greatest when a nobody — a man of no account — slights us, for he of all people has no right to.
Anger (n.) withheld can be a fault: to let oneself and one's loved ones be trampled and overlook it is slavish.
Anger (n.) is a desire for vengeance to the dialectician and a boiling of blood around the heart to the physicist.
Anger (n.) makes us confident, because it knows we are the wronged — and the gods are supposed to be on the side of the wronged.
Anger (n.) in the offender excuses him: no one slights people when angry with them, since slighting is painless and anger is painful.
Anger (n.) is open and does not plot; appetite is the guile-weaving daughter of Cyprus, whose whisper steals the wits of the wise.
Anger (n.) burns hottest at those we love: we expect them to treat us especially well, so their slights cut deeper than any stranger's.
Anger (n.) is a spur to virtue; remove it and the mind is left defenseless, too sluggish for great actions.
Anger (n.) is slavish, absent where it is due: to put up with insult to oneself and one's friends is the mark of a fool.
Anger (n.) is sweeter than dripping honey because it contains the expectation of revenge — no one grows angry with someone he can never pay back.
Anger (n.) half-hears reason, like a hasty servant who runs off before hearing the whole order, or a dog that barks at a knock before seeing if it is a friend.
Anger (n.) is pain at a believed slight joined to the pleasant thought of paying it back; discover the slight never happened, or was trivial, and the anger goes.
Anger (n.) is a recognition of the truth where our deepest commitments are harmed — proof that what was damaged mattered enough to defend.
Anger (n.) is not malice aforethought: it is not the man who acts in anger but the one who enraged him who starts the mischief.