Hieronymus asks, "Why do you bite your own lips when you want to hit someone else?" What would he have said if he had seen a Roman governor jump down from his judge's seat, grab the ceremonial rods from his attendant, and tear his own clothes because he couldn't tear other people's clothes fast enough? Why do you need to flip over tables, throw down cups, bang yourself against pillars, pull your hair, and beat your chest and thighs? Just imagine how intense anger must be if it attacks itself when it can't attack others fast enough. People have to hold back men like this and beg them to make peace with themselves. But someone who stays calm and gives each person the punishment they deserve? He does none of these crazy things.
“What need is there,” asks Hieronymus, “for you to bite your own lips when you want to strike some one?” What would he have said, had he seen a proconsul leap down from the tribunal, snatch the fasces from the lictor, and tear his own clothes because those of others were not torn as fast as he wished. Why need you upset the table, throw down the drinking cups, knock yourself against the columns, tear your hair, smite your thigh and your breast? How vehement do you suppose anger to be, if it thus turns back upon itself, because it cannot find vent on another as fast as it wishes? Such men, therefore, are held back by the bystanders and are begged to become reconciled with themselves. But he who while free from anger assigns to each man the penalty which he deserves, does none of these things.