Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame.

Anger seek it prey,-- Something to tear with sharp-edged tooth and claw, Like not to go off hungry, leaving Love To feast on milk and honeycomb at will.

A man deep-wounded may feel too much pain To feel much anger.

Our deeds still travel with us from afar. And what we have been makes us what we are.

Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.

In every parting there is an image of death.