Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another.
Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.
These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume.
It is as certain as it is strange that truth and error come from one and the same source. Thus it is that we are often not at liberty to do violence to error, because at the same time we do violence to truth.
If somebody says, “I love you,” to me, I feel as though I had a pistol pointed at my head. What can anybody reply under such conditions but that which the pistol-holder requires? “I love you, too.”
I have always felt that violence was the last refuge of the incompetent, and empty threats the final sanctuary of the terminally inept.