ANGER, MALICE AND REVENGE.

AN angry man, who suppresses his pas

sions, thinks worse than he speaks; and an angry man that will chide, speaks worse than The thinks.

A vindictive temper is not only uneasy to others, but to them that have it.

Anger may glance into the breast of a wise man, but rests only in the bosom of fools.

Better to prevent a quarrel before hand, than to revenge it afterward.

None more impatiently suffer injuries, than those that are most forward in doing them.

the corrupting influence of the world; and it gives opportunity for better principles to exert their power.

By self communion, the pious man walks among the various scenes of nature as within the precincts of a great temple, in the habitual exercise of devotion. And from hence, when his thoughts have been thus employed, he returns to the world like a superior being. He carries into active life those pure and elevating sentiments, to which the giddy crowd are strangers. A certain odour of sanctity remains upon his mind, which, for a while at least, will repel the contagion of the world.

Mark Anthony, after the battle of Actium, challenged Augustus, he took no further notice of the insult, than sending back this answer: If Anthony was weary of his life, there were other ways of dispatch beside fighting him; and, for his part, he should not trouble himself to be his executioner.

Revenge stops at nothing that is violent. and wicked. The histories of all ages are full of the tragical outrages that have been executed by this diabolical passion.

Anger begins with folly, and ends with repentance.

We ought to divest ourselves of hatred and malice, for the interest of our own quiet.

In sickness, our distemper makes us loath the most natural meat; in anger, our fury makes us resist the most wholesome advice.

That anger is not warrantable, that has

seen two suns.

Hatred is so durable and so obstinate, that reconciliation on a sick bed, is the greatest sign of death.

We must forget the good we do, for fear of upbraiding and religion bids us forget injuries, lest the remembrance of them should suggest to us a desire of revenge.

A passionate temper renders a man unfit for advice, deprives him of his reason, robs him of all that is great or noble in his nature; it makes him unfit for conversation, destroys friendship, changes justice into cruelty, and turns all order into confusion.

The rage of the passionate is totally extinguished by the death of his enemy; but the hatred of the malicious is not buried even in the grave of his rival; he will envy the good name he has left behind him; he will

envy him the tears of his widow, the prosperity of his children, the esteem of his friends, the praises of his epitaph; nay, the very magnificence of his funeral.

Anger is not only a vice, but a vice against nature, for it divides instead of joining, and frustrates the end of providence in human society,

If the outward appearances of anger be so foul and hideous, how deformed must that miserable mind be that is harassed with it? for it leaves no place either for counsel or friendship, honesty, or good manners; no place either for the exercise of reason, or for the offices of life.

Anger turns beauty into deformity, and the calmest counsels into fierceness: it disorders our very garments, and fills the mind with horror.