The library · Quotes
Stoic quotes on anger
The short answer
Here are the Stoics’ own words on anger, quoted exactly from public-domain translations with book and section: Seneca’s On Anger, Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations and Epictetus’s Discourses. Under each passage is a short note on what it means, and at the end, the popular anger quotes they never wrote.
In this guide · 6 sections
The translations are Aubrey Stewart’s Seneca (1889) and George Long’s Marcus Aurelius (1862) and Epictetus (1877), and an ellipsis (…) marks words left out. For the argument rather than the sources, along with the two most famous lines and a free exercise, read our guide to dealing with anger the Stoic way; none of the passages below repeats it.
Seneca, On Anger
Seneca wrote On Anger in three books addressed to his brother Novatus, and it is the most detailed Stoic account of anger we have. Stewart’s Victorian English runs long, so the excerpts are trimmed. Our page on On Anger walks through the whole work.
Keep it out, slow it down
May it not be that, although anger be not natural, it may be right to adopt it, because it often proves useful? It rouses the spirit and excites it; and courage does nothing grand in war without it … In the first place, it is easier to banish dangerous passions than to rule them; it is easier not to admit them than to keep them in order when admitted; for when they have established themselves in possession of the mind they are more powerful than the lawful ruler, and will in no wise permit themselves to be weakened or abridged.
The passage opens with the case for anger that people still make: it gets you moving, and you need some of it to stand up for yourself. Seneca’s reply turns on a political image. Reason is “the lawful ruler,” and a passion admitted on good behavior soon holds more power than the ruler who let it in. Planning to get just angry enough in a tense negotiation assumes you will still be in charge once you are angry, which is exactly what is in doubt.
Reason gives each side time to plead; moreover, she herself demands adjournment, that she may have sufficient scope for the discovery of the truth; whereas anger is in a hurry: reason wishes to give a just decision; anger wishes its decision to be thought just: reason looks no further than the matter in hand; anger is excited by empty matters hovering on the outskirts of the case … It hates to be proved wrong, and thinks it more honourable to persevere in a mistaken line of conduct than to retract it.
The middle contrast is the one to remember: reason wants a just decision, while anger wants its decision “to be thought just” (On Anger 1.18). That is why angry people build cases. Think of the long message drafted after a fight, listing every past offense. It reads like evidence, but the verdict came first. And because anger “hates to be proved wrong,” the case only gets longer.
What feeds it
Readiness to believe what we hear causes very great mischief; we ought often not even to listen, because in some cases it is better to be deceived than to suspect deceit. … “This man’s greeting was far from civil; that one would not receive my kiss; one cut short a story I had begun to tell; another did not ask me to dinner; another seemed to view me with aversion.” Suspicion will never lack grounds: what we want is straightforwardness, and a kindly interpretation of things. Let us believe nothing unless it forces itself upon our sight and is unmistakable …
Seneca’s first sentence is about secondhand reports: what a colleague says your manager said about you, or what a cousin overheard at the wedding. Some of it will be true, and he still advises listening less. The list that follows is a portrait of a mind keeping score, and it hasn’t dated; add a message left on read and a reply-all you were left off. What he asks for instead is straightforwardness and “a kindly interpretation of things” (On Anger 2.24).
Another consequence of this will be, that we shall not be exasperated by the slightest and most contemptible trifles. … When pleasures have corrupted both the body and the mind, nothing seems endurable, not indeed because it is hard, but because he who has to bear it is soft: for why should we be driven to frenzy by any one’s coughing and sneezing, or by a fly not being driven away with sufficient care, or by a dog’s hanging about us, or a key dropping from a careless servant’s hand? … Nothing, therefore, nourishes anger more than excessive and dissatisfied luxury: the mind ought to be hardened by rough treatment, so as not to feel any blow that is not severe.
Seneca’s examples come from a wealthy Roman household, and his target is the soft living behind them, not the careless servant. The more comfort you are used to, the smaller the thing that can spoil your day. Next-day delivery and instant replies train the same reflex, until a two-minute wait feels like a personal insult. He blames “excessive and dissatisfied luxury” (On Anger 2.25), and his answer is a mind hardened by some roughness, the idea behind the practice known today by the modern name voluntary discomfort.
When it has already started
Fight hard with yourself and if you cannot conquer anger, do not let it conquer you: you have begun to get the better of it if it does not show itself, if it is not given vent. … Let it rather be locked in the innermost recesses of our breast, and be borne by us, not bear us … let us make our countenance more composed than usual, our voice milder, our step slower. Our inward thoughts gradually become influenced by our outward demeanour. … let us beg all our best friends to give us their opinion with the greatest freedom at the very time when we can bear it least, and never to be compliant with us when we are angry.
Seneca does not promise victory. His fallback is “if you cannot conquer anger, do not let it conquer you” (On Anger 3.13), and his image for the difference is carrying: anger should “be borne by us, not bear us.” You can be furious and still walk into the meeting with an even voice. The final request is for allies. Tell the friend or partner who knows you best that the moment you are angry is when you most need their honest opinion, and that agreeing with you then is no favor.
Some men are bound to oppose us not only on the ground of justice, but of honour: one is defending his father, another his brother, another his country, another his friend: yet we do not forgive men for doing what we should blame them for not doing; nay, though one can hardly believe it, we often think well of an act, and ill of the man who did it. But, by Hercules, a great and just man looks with respect at the bravest of his enemies, and the most obstinate defender of his freedom and his country, and wishes that he had such a man for his own countryman and soldier.
Picture a parent at a school meeting arguing hard for their own child, against a plan you support. You would think less of them if they didn’t fight, and you are irritated anyway. Seneca names the inconsistency: we “think well of an act, and ill of the man who did it” (On Anger 3.28). The test is to notice when what annoys you is someone else’s loyalty. His “great and just man” goes further, and wishes such an opponent were on his side.
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
Marcus Aurelius wrote the Meditations in Greek, as private notes to himself, while he was emperor. He comes back to anger again and again, usually as advice to himself for the moment after someone has wronged or irritated him.
Revenge
The best way of avenging thyself is not to become like [the wrong-doer].
The whole entry is one sentence. Long’s square brackets mark words he supplied to make the English clear. Revenge in the usual sense copies the offense, and Marcus’s version refuses to. If a coworker undercuts you in a meeting, the revenge he recommends is to stay the kind of colleague who wouldn’t. You will usually see this line shared in other wordings; more on that below.
Other people’s faults
Art thou angry with him whose armpits stink? art thou angry with him whose mouth smells foul? What good will this anger do thee? He has such a mouth, he has such armpits: it is necessary that such an emanation must come from such things: but the man has reason, it will be said, and he is able, if he takes pains, to discover wherein he offends; I wish thee well of thy discovery. Well then, and thou hast reason: by thy rational faculty stir up his rational faculty; show him his error, admonish him. For if he listens, thou wilt cure him, and there is no need of anger.
Marcus chooses an undignified example, and the joke is part of the argument. Fuming in silence at a roommate who never does the dishes is like being angry at a smell. The roommate, unlike the smell, can be talked to, so talk: “show him his error, admonish him” (Meditations 5.28). If he listens, Marcus says, there was no need of anger. The silent week of seething before anything gets said is the one approach that achieves nothing.
When a man has done thee any wrong, immediately consider with what opinion about good or evil he has done wrong. For when thou hast seen this, thou wilt pity him, and wilt neither wonder nor be angry. For either thou thyself thinkest the same thing to be good that he does, or another thing of the same kind. It is thy duty then to pardon him. But if thou dost not think such things to be good or evil, thou wilt more readily be well disposed to him who is in error.
Take the colleague who presented your idea as his own. He did it because he thinks credit is worth having, and you are angry because you think so too. That is Marcus’s first case: if you share the opinion behind the wrong, “it is thy duty then to pardon him” (Meditations 7.26). The second case asks more of you. Stop treating credit as a real good and you can keep working with him without rancor, and still say plainly whose idea it was.
When thou art offended with any man's shameless conduct, immediately ask thyself, Is it possible, then, that shameless men should not be in the world? It is not possible. Do not, then, require what is impossible. … For at the same time that thou dost remind thyself that it is impossible that such kind of men should not exist, thou wilt become more kindly disposed towards every one individually. … Consider whether thou shouldst not rather blame thyself, because thou didst not expect such a man to err in such a way.
Marcus gives himself a question to ask on the spot, and it works in traffic. When a driver cuts across three lanes, ask whether a world without such drivers is possible. It is not, so stop requiring “what is impossible” (Meditations 9.42). The surprising claim is that this makes him gentler with each offender, not more cynical. The last line goes further: being surprised by something so predictable is a lapse of your own.
Keeping on with the work
If any man should propose to thee the question, how the name Antoninus is written, wouldst thou with a straining of the voice utter each letter? What then if they grow angry, wilt thou be angry too? Wilt thou not go on with composure and number every letter? Just so then in this life also remember that every duty is made up of certain parts. These it is thy duty to observe, and without being disturbed or showing anger towards those who are angry with thee, to go on thy way and finish that which is set before thee.
Antoninus was one of Marcus’s own names, so picture him spelling it out, letter by letter, for someone who asked how it is written and is now growing irritable. You know the modern version: reading a booking reference to a call center for the third time while the agent sighs. Marcus’s advice is to keep counting out the letters. Any task breaks into parts like that, and you can finish it without returning anger “towards those who are angry with thee” (Meditations 6.26).
Epictetus, Discourses
Epictetus had been a slave before he became a teacher, and his student Arrian wrote down the lectures we call the Discourses. He is the bluntest of the three on anger. Much of it, he argues, comes from how highly we value what other people can take from us.
Why then are we angry? Is it because we value so much the things of which these men rob us? Do not admire your clothes, and then you will not be angry with the thief. … I also lately had an iron lamp placed by the side of my household gods; hearing a noise at the door, I ran down, and found that the lamp had been carried off. I reflected that he who had taken the lamp had done nothing strange. What then? To-morrow, I said, you will find an earthen lamp; for a man only loses that which he has.
Epictetus’s question asks what the anger is measuring. Usually it is how much you cared about the thing, more than how badly the thief behaved. “Do not admire your clothes” (Discourses 1.18), and the theft loses most of its hold on you. He applies this to himself with an iron lamp and a cheaper replacement. The last clause is the one to keep when your bike disappears from outside the station: “a man only loses that which he has.”
But when you have asked for warm water and the slave has not heard, or if he did hear has brought only tepid water, or he is not even found to be in the house, then not to be vexed or to burst with passion, is not this acceptable to the gods? … Slave yourself, will you not bear with your own brother, who has Zeus for his progenitor, and is like a son from the same seeds and of the same descent from above? … Will you not remember who you are, and whom you rule? That they are kinsmen, that they are brethren by nature, that they are the offspring of Zeus?
Someone has asked Epictetus how a man may eat acceptably to the gods, and his answer is about conduct at the table, not the food. It turns on the slave who brings tepid water. Epictetus tells the master that the man he owns is his brother by nature and a fellow child of Zeus. Today the test is any small failure by someone with less power than you: a server, a new hire, a delivery driver. Before you snap, “remember who you are, and whom you rule” (Discourses 1.13).
Such a person has reviled you. Great thanks to him for not having struck you. But he has struck me also. Great thanks that he did not wound you. But he wounded me also. Great thanks that he did not kill you. … Your neighbor has thrown stones. Have you then done anything wrong? But the things in the house have been broken. Are you then a utensil? No; but a free power of will. … If you are like a wolf, you must bite in return, and throw more stones. But, if you consider what is proper for a man, examine your storehouse, see with what faculties you came into the world.
The run of thanks sounds absurd until you read the lines just before it, where Epictetus says the good person expects worse from bad people than what actually happens, and counts anything short of the worst as gain (Discourses 4.5). Then comes the line to keep. Your neighbor broke the things in your house, so ask: “Are you then a utensil?” Your things can be damaged; your will cannot. Whether you throw stones back depends on what you take yourself to be, a wolf or a human being.
Two famous lines, explained elsewhere
Two of the best-known Stoic lines on anger are quoted and explained in full in our anger guide, so here they get one line each:
- Delay. Seneca calls delay the greatest remedy for anger, and asks anger to wait so that it can judge rightly, not so that it will forgive (On Anger 2.29). See why delay works.
- Marcus’s reminders. In Meditations 11.18 Marcus lists what to consider when someone has offended him, among them that our anger costs us more than the act that provoked it. See the ten reminders.
Anger quotes the Stoics never said
“He who angers you conquers you”
This line is often credited to Epictetus. It is not in the Enchiridion or in any of the Discourses we can search, and we have found no ancient source for it. It sounds Stoic because two real passages come close. One is Seneca’s On Anger 3.13, above: “if you cannot conquer anger, do not let it conquer you.” The other is Epictetus on handing your mind to whoever insults you.
If any person was intending to put your body in the power of any man whom you fell in with on the way, you would be vexed; but that you put your understanding in the power of any man whom you meet, so that if he should revile you, it is disturbed and troubled, are you not ashamed at this?
The difference matters. The popular line turns anger into a contest and makes the other person the winner. Epictetus doesn’t mention winning. His question is addressed to you: an insult reaches your understanding only because you put it in the other person’s power, and he asks whether you are not ashamed of that. To check a line like this yourself, paste it into the quote checker.
The “best revenge” line
Meditations 6.6 is genuine, but the version you usually see shared is not Long’s. English translators have rendered the sentence many ways, and the word revenge is not new: Meric Casaubon’s translation of 1634, on Project Gutenberg (opens in a new tab), already uses it. The punchier versions on quote sites come from later translations or from rewording, and recent translations are still under copyright, which is why we show Long’s 1862 wording above. The thought is the same in all of them: don’t answer a wrong by copying it.
The “more grievous” line
A line that begins “How much more grievous…” is widely shared as Marcus Aurelius on anger. It isn’t a sentence in Long’s translation or in Casaubon’s. It reads as a condensed version of the eighth of Marcus’s reminders in Meditations 11.18: that what follows from our anger often hurts us more than whatever we were angry about. The word grievous comes from older English, and Casaubon’s version of that reminder uses it. Long’s wording is shown in the anger guide.
For other lines the Stoics never wrote, see fake Stoic quotes.
Angry right now?
A good line is easier to read than to use in the moment. If you are angry now, the free Anger exercise walks you through separating what happened from the story you added, then choosing one thing to do next. Every step is optional.
Later, the Evening Examination is a nightly review modeled on the one Seneca describes in On Anger 3.36, and a good place to look back at what set you off. If your anger keeps returning to the same person, see difficult people.
Questions
What did Seneca say about anger?
Did Epictetus say 'He who angers you conquers you'?
What is the best Stoic quote about revenge?
What did Epictetus say about anger?
Sources and translations
- Seneca, On Anger, translated by Aubrey Stewart (1889). Project Gutenberg (opens in a new tab)
- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, translated by George Long (1862). Project Gutenberg (opens in a new tab)
- Epictetus, Discourses, translated by George Long (1877). Project Gutenberg (opens in a new tab)
- Epictetus, Enchiridion, translated by George Long (1877). Project Gutenberg (opens in a new tab)
Every quotation is checked word for word against these texts. How we source the Stoics.
Last reviewed October 5, 2026 · Report an error
IV · Repeat
Read one every morning.
Stoic Practice for iPhone gives you one sourced Stoic passage each morning, with a plain-English explanation and a practice for the day, and the free Anger exercise for the moments a good line is not enough.
365 daily teachings · 12 guided exercises · 12 practices · Your journal stays on your iPhone
The daily practice is free. Premium adds the full guided sequence, all exercises and practices, and the archive: $6.99/month or $39.99/year (U.S.). No trial, no ads.