Anger is implanted in us as sort of sting, to make us gnash with our teeth against the devil, to make us vehement against him, not to set us in array against each other.

A fly, Sir, may sting a stately horse and make him wince; but, one is but an insect, and the other is a horse still.

We have to distrust each other. It is our only defense against betrayal.

When anger rushes unrestrained to action, like a hot steed, it stumbles on its way. The man of thought strikes deepest and strikes safely.

With all the other -isms that we deal with, that sort of nameless -ism that we have in too many of our hearts against the poor in this country is what wounds us most broadly.

I realized that we were all sort of conspiring, well, not conspiring against each other, but all this cloak and dagger stuff and I was like; what is this?