~Zealot.~--When we see an eager assailant of one of these wrongs, a special reformer, we feel like asking him, What right have you, sir, to your one virtue? Is virtue piecemeal?--_Emerson._
Non agitur de vectigalibus, non de sociorum injuriis; libertas et anima nostra in dubio est=--It is not a question of our revenues, nor of the wrongs of our allies; our liberty and very lives are in peril.
We don’t need a list of rights and wrongs, tables of dos and don’ts: we need books, time, and silence. Thou shalt not is soon forgotten, but Once upon a time lasts forever.
Multis minatur, qui uni facit injuriam=--He who wrongs one threatens many.
Some write their wrongs in marble: he more just, Stoop'd down serene and wrote them in the dust,-- Trod under foot, the sport of every wind, Swept from the earth and blotted from his mind. There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie, And grieved they could not 'scape the Almighty eye.
Right wrongs no man.
Write thy wrongs in ashes.
Go, then, and do not be afraid. Do not be upset with people, do not take offense at their wrongs. Forgive the dead man in your heart for all the harm he did you; be reconciled with him truly. If you are repentant, it means that you love. And if you love, you already belong to God … With love everything is bought, everything is saved. If even I, a sinful man, just like you, was moved to tenderness and felt pity for you, how much more will God be. Love is such a priceless treasure that you can buy the whole world with it, and redeem not only your own but other people’s sins. Go, and do not be afraid.
He that wrongs his friend / Wrongs himself more, and ever bears about / A silent court of justice in his breast, / Himself the judge and jury, and himself / The prisoner at the bar, ever condemned.
Rage is for little wrongs; despair is dumb.
Two wrongs don't make a right, but they make a good excuse.
My best friend is he who rights my wrongs or reproaches my mistakes.
Sweet Phosphor, bring the day Whose conquering ray May chase these fogs; Sweet Phosphor, bring the day! Sweet Phosphor, bring the day! Light will repay The wrongs of night; Sweet Phosphor, bring the day!
There are some cases in which human nature and its deep wrongs will be ever stronger than the world and its philosophy.
He's most truly valiant / That can wisely suffer the worst that man / Can breathe; and make his wrongs his outsides: / To wear them like his raiment, carelessly, / And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, / To bring it into danger.
Your cause belongs / To him who can avenge your wrongs.
If our country, when pressed with wrongs at the point of the bayonet, had been governed by its heads instead of its hearts, where should we have been now? Hanging on a gallows as high as Haman’s. [Letter to Maria Cosway, 1786. ME 5:444.]
And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind, The last and hardest conquest of the mind.
Little wrongs done to others are great wrongs done to ourselves.
Good fortune attend each merry man's friend That doth but the best that he may, Forgetting old wrongs with carols and songs To drive the cold winter away.
You do not examine legislation in the light of the benefits it will convey if properly administered, but in the light of the wrongs it would do and the harms it would cause if improperly administered.
There is a spirit of resistance implanted by the Deity in the breast of man, proportioned to the size of the wrongs he is destined to endure.
Longa est injuria, long? / Ambages=--Long is the story of her wrongs, tedious the details.
Two wrongs don't make a right, but they make a good excuse. -- Thomas Szasz
Go placidly amid the noise and waste, And remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof. Avoid quiet and passive persons, unless you are in need of sleep. Rotate your tires. Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself, And heed well their advice -- even though they be turkeys. Know what to kiss -- and when. Remember that two wrongs never make a right, But that three do. Wherever possible, put people on "HOLD". Be comforted, that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment, And despite the changing fortunes of time, There is always a big future in computer maintenance. You are a fluke of the universe ... You have no right to be here. Whether you can hear it or not, the universe Is laughing behind your back. -- National Lampoon, "Deteriorata"
If two wrongs don't make a right, try three. -- Laurence J. Peter
Two wrongs are only the beginning. -- Kohn
Two wrongs don't make a right, but three lefts do.
Men have as exaggerated an idea of their rights as women have of their wrongs. -- E. W. Howe
It is not that Thenardier was not, on occasion, capable of wrath to quite the same degree as his wife; but this was very rare, and at such times, since he was enraged with the human race in general, as he bore within him a deep furnace of hatred. And since he was one of those people who are continually avenging their wrongs, who accuse everything that passes before them of everything which has befallen them, and who are always ready to cast upon the first person who comes to hand, as a legitimate grievance, the sum total of the deceptions, the bankruptcies, and the calamities of their lives,--when all this leaven was stirred up in him and boiled forth from his mouth and eyes, he was terrible. Woe to the person who came under his wrath at such a time!
What produced this extraordinary occurrence? What were its causes? The historians tell us with naive assurance that its causes were the wrongs inflicted on the Duke of Oldenburg, the nonobservance of the Continental System, the ambition of Napoleon, the firmness of Alexander, the mistakes of the diplomatists, and so on.
Marius, on his side, had gone forth in indignation. There was one circumstance which, it must be admitted, aggravated his exasperation. There are always petty fatalities of the sort which complicate domestic dramas. They augment the grievances in such cases, although, in reality, the wrongs are not increased by them. While carrying Marius' "duds" precipitately to his chamber, at his grandfather's command, Nicolette had, inadvertently, let fall, probably, on the attic staircase, which was dark, that medallion of black shagreen which contained the paper penned by the colonel. Neither paper nor case could afterwards be found. Marius was convinced that "Monsieur Gillenormand"--from that day forth he never alluded to him otherwise--had flung "his father's testament" in the fire. He knew by heart the few lines which the colonel had written, and, consequently, nothing was lost. But the paper, the writing, that sacred relic,--all that was his very heart. What had been done with it?
So Pallas, and approving Juno smiled. Then the imperial Shaker of the shores Thus to Apollo. Phoebus! wherefore stand _We_ thus aloof? Since others have begun, Begin we also; shame it were to both Should we, no combat waged, ascend again Olympus and the brass-built hall of Jove. Begin, for thou art younger; me, whose years Alike and knowledge thine surpass so far, It suits not. Oh stupidity! how gross Art thou and senseless! Are no traces left In thy remembrance of our numerous wrongs Sustain'd at Ilium, when, of all the Gods Ourselves alone, by Jove's commandment, served For stipulated hire, a year complete, Our task-master the proud Laomedon? Myself a bulwark'd town, spacious, secure Against assault, and beautiful as strong Built for the Trojans, and thine office was To feed for King Laomedon his herds Among the groves of Ida many-valed. But when the gladsome hours the season brought Of payment, then the unjust King of Troy Dismiss'd us of our whole reward amerced By violence, and added threats beside. Thee into distant isles, bound hand and foot, To sell he threatened, and to amputate The ears of both; we, therefore, hasted thence Resenting deep our promised hire withheld. Aid'st thou for this the Trojans? Canst thou less Than seek, with us, to exterminate the whole Perfidious race, wives, children, husbands, all?
When they prayed for the warriors, she thought of her brother and Denisov. When they prayed for all traveling by land and sea, she remembered Prince Andrew, prayed for him, and asked God to forgive her all the wrongs she had done him. When they prayed for those who love us, she prayed for the members of her own family, her father and mother and Sonya, realizing for the first time how wrongly she had acted toward them, and feeling all the strength of her love for them. When they prayed for those who hate us, she tried to think of her enemies and people who hated her, in order to pray for them. She included among her enemies the creditors and all who had business dealings with her father, and always at the thought of enemies and those who hated her she remembered Anatole who had done her so much harm--and though he did not hate her she gladly prayed for him as for an enemy. Only at prayer did she feel able to think clearly and calmly of Prince Andrew and Anatole, as men for whom her feelings were as nothing compared with her awe and devotion to God. When they prayed for the Imperial family and the Synod, she bowed very low and made the sign of the cross, saying to herself that even if she did not understand, still she could not doubt, and at any rate loved the governing Synod and prayed for it.
Hail venerable guest! and be thy lot Prosp'rous at least hereafter, who art held At present in the bonds of num'rous ills. Thou, Jupiter, of all the Gods, art most Severe, and spar'st not to inflict distress Even on creatures from thyself derived. I had no sooner mark'd thee, than my eyes Swam, and the sweat gush'd from me at the thought Of dear Ulysses; for if yet he live And see the sun, such tatters, I suppose, He wears, a wand'rer among human-kind. But if already with the dead he dwell In Pluto's drear abode, oh then, alas For kind Ulysses! who consign'd to me, While yet a boy, his Cephalenian herds, And they have now encreas'd to such a store Innumerable of broad-fronted beeves, As only care like mine could have produced. These, by command of others, I transport For their regale, who neither heed his son, Nor tremble at the anger of the Gods, But long have wish'd ardently to divide And share the substance of our absent Lord. Me, therefore, this thought occupies, and haunts My mind not seldom; while the heir survives It were no small offence to drive his herds Afar, and migrate to a foreign land; Yet here to dwell, suff'ring oppressive wrongs While I attend another's beeves, appears Still less supportable; and I had fled, And I had served some other mighty Chief Long since, (for patience fails me to endure My present lot) but that I cherish still Some hope of my ill-fated Lord's return, To rid his palace of those lawless guests.
A singular notion dawned upon me. I doubted not--never doubted--that if Mr. Reed had been alive he would have treated me kindly; and now, as I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls--occasionally also turning a fascinated eye towards the dimly gleaning mirror--I began to recall what I had heard of dead men, troubled in their graves by the violation of their last wishes, revisiting the earth to punish the perjured and avenge the oppressed; and I thought Mr. Reed's spirit, harassed by the wrongs of his sister's child, might quit its abode--whether in the church vault or in the unknown world of the departed--and rise before me in this chamber. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs, fearful lest any sign of violent grief might waken a preternatural voice to comfort me, or elicit from the gloom some haloed face, bending over me with strange pity. This idea, consolatory in theory, I felt would be terrible if realised: with all my might I endeavoured to stifle it--I endeavoured to be firm. Shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted my head and tried to look boldly round the dark room; at this moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I asked myself, a ray from the moon penetrating some aperture in the blind? No; moonlight was still, and this stirred; while I gazed, it glided up to the ceiling and quivered over my head. I can now conjecture readily that this streak of light was, in all likelihood, a gleam from a lantern carried by some one across the lawn: but then, prepared as my mind was for horror, shaken as my nerves were by agitation, I thought the swift darting beam was a herald of some coming vision from another world. My heart beat thick, my head grew hot; a sound filled my ears, which I deemed the rushing of wings; something seemed near me; I was oppressed, suffocated: endurance broke down; I rushed to the door and shook the lock in desperate effort. Steps came running along the outer passage; the key turned, Bessie and Abbot entered.
Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands, Who hath convened this council. I, am He. I am in chief the suff'rer. Tidings none Of the returning host I have received, Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught Of public import on a different theme, But my own trouble, on my own house fall'n, And two-fold fall'n. One is, that I have lost A noble father, who, as fathers rule Benign their children, govern'd once yourselves; The other, and the more alarming ill, With ruin threatens my whole house, and all My patrimony with immediate waste. Suitors, (their children who in this our isle Hold highest rank) importunate besiege My mother, though desirous not to wed, And rather than resort to her own Sire Icarius, who might give his daughter dow'r, And portion her to whom he most approves, (A course which, only named, moves their disgust) They chuse, assembling all within my gates Daily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goats Their banquet, and to drink without restraint My wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours; For I have no Ulysses to relieve Me and my family from this abuse. Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas! Too feeble should be found, and yet to learn How best to use the little force we own; Else, had I pow'r, I would, myself, redress The evil; for it now surpasses far All suff'rance, now they ravage uncontroul'd, Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more. Oh be ashamed yourselves; blush at the thought Of such reproach as ye shall sure incur From all our neighbour states, and fear beside The wrath of the Immortals, lest they call Yourselves one day to a severe account. I pray you by Olympian Jove, by her Whose voice convenes all councils, and again Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease, That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wear My days in solitary grief away, Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire, Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong'd, Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me, Inciting these to plague me. Better far Were my condition, if yourselves consumed My substance and my revenue; from you I might obtain, perchance, righteous amends Hereafter; you I might with vehement suit O'ercome, from house to house pleading aloud For recompense, till I at last prevail'd. But now, with darts of anguish ye transfix My inmost soul, and I have no redress.
Thus while he spoke, already she began, With sparkling eyes, to view the guilty man; From head to foot survey'd his person o'er, Nor longer these outrageous threats forebore: "False as thou art, and, more than false, forsworn! Not sprung from noble blood, nor goddess-born, But hewn from harden'd entrails of a rock! And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck! Why should I fawn? what have I worse to fear? Did he once look, or lent a list'ning ear, Sigh'd when I sobb'd, or shed one kindly tear?- All symptoms of a base ungrateful mind, So foul, that, which is worse, 'tis hard to find. Of man's injustice why should I complain? The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies, Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes; Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies! Justice is fled, and Truth is now no more! I sav'd the shipwrack'd exile on my shore; With needful food his hungry Trojans fed; I took the traitor to my throne and bed: Fool that I was- 't is little to repeat The rest- I stor'd and rigg'd his ruin'd fleet. I rave, I rave! A god's command he pleads, And makes Heav'n accessary to his deeds. Now Lycian lots, and now the Delian god, Now Hermes is employ'd from Jove's abode, To warn him hence; as if the peaceful state Of heav'nly pow'rs were touch'd with human fate! But go! thy flight no longer I detain- Go seek thy promis'd kingdom thro' the main! Yet, if the heav'ns will hear my pious vow, The faithless waves, not half so false as thou, Or secret sands, shall sepulchers afford To thy proud vessels, and their perjur'd lord. Then shalt thou call on injur'd Dido's name: Dido shall come in a black sulph'ry flame, When death has once dissolv'd her mortal frame; Shall smile to see the traitor vainly weep: Her angry ghost, arising from the deep, Shall haunt thee waking, and disturb thy sleep. At least my shade thy punishment shall know, And Fame shall spread the pleasing news below."
In a hand-bill the Council of the Republic recited its wrongs:
From hollow Lacedæmon's glen profound, From Phare, Sparta, and from Messa, still Resounding with the ring-dove's amorous moan, From Brysia, from Augeia, from the rocks Of Laas, from Amycla, Otilus, And from the towers of Helos, at whose foot The surf of Ocean falls, came sixty barks With Menelaus. From the monarch's host The royal brother ranged his own apart, and panted for revenge of Helen's wrongs, And of her sighs and tears. From rank to rank, Conscious of dauntless might he pass'd, and sent Into all hearts the fervor of his own.
10:8. A kingdom is translated from one people to another, because of injustices, and wrongs, and injuries, and divers deceits.
In such conversation an hour was soon gone: Bessie restored to me my bonnet, &c., and, accompanied by her, I quitted the lodge for the hall. It was also accompanied by her that I had, nearly nine years ago, walked down the path I was now ascending. On a dark, misty, raw morning in January, I had left a hostile roof with a desperate and embittered heart--a sense of outlawry and almost of reprobation--to seek the chilly harbourage of Lowood: that bourne so far away and unexplored. The same hostile roof now again rose before me: my prospects were doubtful yet; and I had yet an aching heart. I still felt as a wanderer on the face of the earth; but I experienced firmer trust in myself and my own powers, and less withering dread of oppression. The gaping wound of my wrongs, too, was now quite healed; and the flame of resentment extinguished.
To whom Ulysses, low'ring dark, replied. Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mine Wrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon, However plentiful, which thou receiv'st. The sill may hold us both; thou dost not well To envy others; thou appear'st like me A vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav'n. But urge me not to trial of our fists, Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with blood Thy bosom and thy lips, old as I am. So, my attendance should to-morrow prove More tranquil here; for thou should'st leave, I judge, Ulysses' mansion, never to return.
The people of the west moved eastwards to slay their fellow men, and by the law of coincidence thousands of minute causes fitted in and co- ordinated to produce that movement and war: reproaches for the nonobservance of the Continental System, the Duke of Oldenburg's wrongs, the movement of troops into Prussia--undertaken (as it seemed to Napoleon) only for the purpose of securing an armed peace, the French Emperor's love and habit of war coinciding with his people's inclinations, allurement by the grandeur of the preparations, and the expenditure on those preparations and the need of obtaining advantages to compensate for that expenditure, the intoxicating honors he received in Dresden, the diplomatic negotiations which, in the opinion of contemporaries, were carried on with a sincere desire to attain peace, but which only wounded the self-love of both sides, and millions of other causes that adapted themselves to the event that was happening or coincided with it.
Then thus Dione, Goddess all divine. My child! how hard soe'er thy sufferings seem Endure them patiently. Full many a wrong From human hands profane the Gods endure, And many a painful stroke, mankind from ours. Mars once endured much wrong, when on a time Him Otus bound and Ephialtes fast, Sons of Alöeus, and full thirteen moons In brazen thraldom held him. There, at length, The fierce blood-nourished Mars had pined away, But that Eëriboea, loveliest nymph, His step-mother, in happy hour disclosed To Mercury the story of his wrongs; He stole the prisoner forth, but with his woes Already worn, languid and fetter-gall'd. Nor Juno less endured, when erst the bold Son of Amphytrion with tridental shaft Her bosom pierced; she then the misery felt Of irremediable pain severe. Nor suffer'd Pluto less, of all the Gods Gigantic most, by the same son of Jove Alcides, at the portals of the dead Transfix'd and fill'd with anguish; he the house Of Jove and the Olympian summit sought Dejected, torture-stung, for sore the shaft Oppress'd him, into his huge shoulder driven. But Pæon him not liable to death With unction smooth of salutiferous balms Heal'd soon. Presumptuous, sacrilegious man! Careless what dire enormities he wrought, Who bent his bow against the powers of heaven! But blue-eyed Pallas instigated him By whom thou bleed'st. Infatuate! he forgets That whoso turns against the Gods his arm Lives never long; he never, safe escaped From furious fight, the lisp'd caresses hears Of his own infants prattling at his knees. Let therefore Diomede beware, lest strong And valiant as he is, he chance to meet Some mightier foe than thou, and lest his wife, Daughter of King Adrastus, the discrete Ægialea, from portentous dreams Upstarting, call her family to wail Her first-espoused, Achaia's proudest boast, Diomede, whom she must behold no more.
Hence it is to be remarked that, in seizing a state, the usurper ought to examine closely into all those injuries which it is necessary for him to inflict, and to do them all at one stroke so as not to have to repeat them daily; and thus by not unsettling men he will be able to reassure them, and win them to himself by benefits. He who does otherwise, either from timidity or evil advice, is always compelled to keep the knife in his hand; neither can he rely on his subjects, nor can they attach themselves to him, owing to their continued and repeated wrongs. For injuries ought to be done all at one time, so that, being tasted less, they offend less; benefits ought to be given little by little, so that the flavour of them may last longer.
"Come, now! Why?" exclaimed M. Madeleine. "What nonsense is this? What is the meaning of this? What culpable act have you been guilty of towards me? What have you done to me? What are your wrongs with regard to me? You accuse yourself; you wish to be superseded--"
No place for doubt remains. Oh, versed in wiles, Juno! thy mischief-teeming mind perverse Hath plotted this; thou hast contrived the hurt Of Hector, and hast driven his host to flight. I know not but thyself mayst chance to reap The first-fruits of thy cunning, scourged by me. Hast thou forgotten how I once aloft Suspended thee, with anvils at thy feet, And both thy wrists bound with a golden cord Indissoluble? In the clouds of heaven I hung thee, while from the Olympian heights The Gods look'd mournful on, but of them all None could deliver thee, for whom I seized, Hurl'd through the gates of heaven on earth he fell, Half-breathless. Neither so did I resign My hot resentment of the hero's wrongs Immortal Hercules, whom thou by storms Call'd from the North, with mischievous intent Hadst driven far distant o'er the barren Deep To populous Cos. Thence I deliver'd him, And after numerous woes severe, he reach'd The shores of fruitful Argos, saved by me. I thus remind thee now, that thou mayst cease Henceforth from artifice, and mayst be taught How little all the dalliance and the love Which, stealing down from heaven, thou hast by fraud Obtain'd from me, shall profit thee at last.