November 18
Silence in the hour of anger is no small thing: whoever can silently overcome the turmoil within has shown more strength than the one who raises his voice.
Moralia — On the Control of Anger (freely rendered)
Listening mode
Silence in the hour of anger is no small thing: whoever can silently overcome the turmoil within has shown more strength than the one who raises his voice.
The sentence you didn't say in anger you often know more exactly than much of what you did say. It was fully formed, sharp, perhaps even apt. Because it never reached anyone, no one contradicted it either. It stays with you, and in the evening it sounds just as convincing as it did in the first moment.
That makes this silence hard to judge. From outside it looks as if nothing has happened. Inside, at first, only the exit has been closed. Whether the anger settles there or merely makes itself at home, you can't tell in the first hour.
Sometimes after a few days you notice that the sentence was made of two halves: one that was true, and one that was mainly meant to hurt. Said aloud, both would have arrived together, and the other person would probably have defended themselves against the second. Now you can tell them apart.
The conversation about the first half is still to come. It will begin more quietly than your sentence would have. Perhaps by then you won't even be able to put the sentence back together in full.
