Anger (n.) at things is wasted: they don't notice.
Anger (n.) at the world is absurd — as if the world would notice!
Anger (n.) and grief do far more damage than the things that cause them.
Anger (n.) on the face is unnatural — often the very look of the dying.
Anger's (n.) consequences are far more grievous than its causes.
Anger (n.) is a mark of weakness, like grief, in that both mean being wounded and wincing.
Anger (n.) ends, however famous and intense, in smoke, dust, legend — or not even a legend.
Anger (n.) is opposition, and opposition between people is as unnatural as the upper teeth fighting the lower.
Anger (n.) brings consequences far worse than the things we are angry about.
Anger (n.) at someone's wrongdoing fades when you ask what you do of the same kind — thinking money, pleasure or praise a good.
Anger (n.) thins out when you picture its target whole: eating at his table, asleep in his bed, making love, relieving himself.
Anger (n.) at others' bad behavior subsides once you ask when you acted the same — when you too took money, pleasure or position for a good.
Anger (n.) is forgetting: that everything is natural, that the fault is theirs, and that whatever happens is happening this very moment everywhere.
Anger (n.) makes a man almost a victim: pain and inner convulsion push him off reason, whereas pleasure seduces a man who goes willingly.
Anger (n.) is not manly; gentleness is, because it is more human — it has more strength and more nerve than any loss of temper.
Anger (n.) is an obstruction: to turn your back on someone is like one row of teeth refusing to meet the other.
Anger (n.) is weakness, as much as breaking down: the man who runs and the man who lets himself be estranged from other people are both deserters.
Anger (n.) at sinners is a cruelty: it forbids them to pursue what they think is their good. Teach them better instead.
Anger (n.) comes from weakness, like grief: both the angry and the grieving have been wounded and have cravenly surrendered to their passions.
Anger (n.) at misbehavior is cruel: it forbids people to want what they think is good for them — when you could simply show them it isn't.