Plain
Seneca — The Senator

I've explained what anger is well enough. The difference between anger and being quick-tempered is clear. It's like the difference between a drunk person and an alcoholic, or between someone who's scared and someone who's a coward. You can be angry without being quick-tempered. You can be quick-tempered without being angry right now. I'll skip the other types of anger that the Greeks name with different words, since we don't have exact terms for them in Latin. But we do call people bitter, harsh, cranky, wild, loud, rude, and fierce. These are all different forms of being quick-tempered. You can add sulking to this list — it's a polished version of quick temper. Some kinds of anger are all noise and nothing else. Others last as long as they are common. Some are violent in action but don't waste words. Some pour themselves out in harsh words and curses. Some don't go beyond complaining and giving you the cold shoulder. Some are huge, deep-rooted, and fester inside a person. There are a thousand other forms of this many-faced evil.

On Anger, Book 1, Section 4 Book 1 · 11 of 69
Human Nature Knowing Yourself
Seneca — The Senator Original

What anger is has been sufficiently explained. The difference between it and irascibility is evident: it is the same as that between a drunken man and a drunkard; between a frightened man and a coward. It is possible for an angry man not to be irascible; an irascible man may sometimes not be angry. I shall omit the other varieties of anger, which the Greeks distinguish by various names, because we have no distinctive words for them in our language, although we call men bitter, and harsh, and also peevish, frantic, clamorous, surly, and fierce: all of which are different forms of irascibility. Among these you may class sulkiness, a refined form of irascibility; for there are some sorts of anger which go no further than noise, while some are as lasting as they are common: some are fierce in deed, but inclined to be sparing of words: some expend themselves in bitter words and curses: some do not go beyond complaining and turning one’s back: some are great, deep-seated, and brood within a man: there are a thousand other forms of a multiform evil.

On Anger, Book 1, Section 4 Book 1 · 11 of 69
Seneca — The Senator

Only humans have been given wisdom, foresight, hard work, and deep thought. Animals are forbidden not just human virtues, but even human vices. Their whole makeup — mind and body — is completely different from ours. Their ruling principle comes from a different source entirely. Take their voice, for example. They have one, but it's unclear and can't form real words. They have a tongue, but it's clumsy and can't handle complex movements. They also have intellect — the greatest gift of all — but theirs is rough and imprecise. It can only grasp dim images and shadows that push them to act, and even then only in a cloudy, unclear way. This is why their impulses and outbursts are so violent. They don't actually feel fear, worry, grief, or anger — just rough copies of these feelings. That's why they drop them so quickly and switch to the opposite. After showing the most intense rage and terror, they go back to grazing peacefully. After wild bellowing and thrashing, they immediately fall into calm sleep.

On Anger, Book 1, Section 3 Book 1 · 10 of 69
Human Nature Calm Your Mind
Seneca — The Senator Original

To no creature besides man has been given wisdom, foresight, industry, and reflexion. To animals not only human virtues but even human vices are forbidden: their whole constitution, mental and bodily, is unlike that of human beings: in them the royal and leading principle is drawn from another source, as, for instance, they possess a voice, yet not a clear one, but indistinct and incapable of forming words: a tongue, but one which is fettered and not sufficiently nimble for complex movements: so, too, they possess intellect, the greatest attribute of all, but in a rough and inexact condition. It is, consequently, able to grasp those visions and semblances which rouse it to action, but only in a cloudy and indistinct fashion. It follows from this that their impulses and outbreaks are violent, and that they do not feel fear, anxieties, grief, or anger, but some semblances of these feelings: wherefore they quickly drop them and adopt the converse of them: they graze after showing the most vehement rage and terror, and after frantic bellowing and plunging they straightway sink into quiet sleep.

On Anger, Book 1, Section 3 Book 1 · 10 of 69
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Ancient philosophy, in plain English.

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