Malice (n.) is a powerful stimulant to life in countless tiny doses — just as benevolence in the same doses is its ever-available medicine.
Malice (n.) is the hunger that grows out of the giver's fullness: to harm those for whom I shine, to rob those I have bestowed upon.
Malice (n.) of humans is unequal to its reputation: what counts as egregious evil today is only twelve shoes wide and three months long.
Malice (n.) was invented by the sick: the weak have more spirit, are more changeable and entertaining — and more malicious.
Malice (n.) will always find in your experience a way to diminish you: emerge from the profoundest convulsion and someone says you made your sickness an argument; break your chains and wound yourself, and someone mocks your clumsiness.