Even if we ignore anger's immediate effects — like heavy losses, dangerous plots, and the constant worry that comes with conflict — anger punishes itself the moment it punishes others. It abandons human feelings. Love tells us to care for people, but anger tells us to hate them. Love tells us to help others, but anger tells us to hurt them. Here's another problem: anger seems to come from high self-respect and appears to show courage, but it's actually pathetic and petty. You must feel inferior to someone if you think they've looked down on you. A truly great mind knows its own worth and doesn't seek revenge for insults — because it doesn't even feel insulted.
Moreover, even if we pass over its immediate consequences, such as heavy losses, treacherous plots, and the constant anxiety produced by strife, anger pays a penalty at the same moment that it exacts one: it forswears human feelings. The latter urge us to love, anger urges us to hatred: the latter bid us do men good, anger bids us do them harm. Add to this that, although its rage arises from an excessive self-respect and appears to show high spirit, it really is contemptible and mean: for a man must be inferior to one by whom he thinks himself despised, whereas the truly great mind, which takes a true estimate of its own value, does not revenge an insult because it does not feel it.