Two it takes to make a quarrel:
One can always end it.
(Phil. 4. 2)
Let dogs delight to bark and bite
For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature too.—Watts
The Rev. W. Howells once said the best way to settle a quarrel was to "let the innocent forgive the guilty." The Rev. John Clark of Frome was asked, one day, how he kept from being involved in quarrels. He answered, "By letting the angry person always have the quarrel to himself."—Selected
"But why did you leave your last place?" the lady asked of the would-be cook.
"To tell the truth, mum, I just couldn't stand the way the master an' the missus used to quarrel, mum."
"Dear me! Do you mean to say that they actually used to quarrel?"
"Yis, mum, all the time. When it wasn't me an' him, it was me an' her."
"I hear ye had words with Casey."
"We had no words."
"Then nothing passed between ye?"
"Nothing but one brick."
There had been a wordy falling-out between Mrs. Halloran and Mrs. Donohue; there had been words; nay, more, there had been language. Mrs. Halloran had gone to church early in the morning, had fulfilled the duties of her religion, and was returning primly home, when Mrs. Donohue spied her, and, still smouldering with volcanic fire, sent a broadside of lava at Mrs. Halloran. The latter heard, flushed, opened her lips—and then suddenly checked herself. After a moment she spoke: "Mrs. Donohue, I've just been to church, and I'm in a state of grace. But, plaze Hivin, the next time I meet yez, I won't be, and thin I'll till yez what I think of yez!"
A quarrel is quickly settled when deserted by one party: there is no battle unless there be two.—Seneca.