Vengeance's brought about by hate and fear.
When it points its head in our direction,
We take notice and then everything changes.
The way we choose our friends,
The way we create enemies out of strangers.
We are not enemies, but friends.
We must not be enemies.
Though passion may have strained,
It must not break our bonds of affection.
The mystic chords of memory will swell
When again touched, as surely they will be,
By the better angels of our nature.'
Hate is baggage.
Life is too short to be pissed off all the time.
It's just not worth it.