"Kindness in ourselves is the honey that blunts the sting of unkindness in another"
About this Quote
Kindness here isn’t framed as moral decoration; it’s pitched as a practical anesthetic. Grantland Rice, a sportswriter who made a career out of translating competition into character, chooses “honey” not “armor.” That image matters. Honey doesn’t block the sting; it changes your relationship to it, turning pain into something you can absorb without hardening. The line quietly rejects the fantasy that you can control other people’s cruelty. You can’t. What you can control is the internal climate that decides whether their unkindness becomes a wound or just an irritant.
The subtext is almost tactical: be kind for self-preservation as much as for virtue. Rice is smuggling in an egoistic argument for decency, which is why it lands. If kindness is “in ourselves,” it’s not performative. It’s a cultivated habit, a temperament that functions like a buffer. The phrase “blunts the sting” also suggests repetition; stings happen often enough that you need a standing remedy, not a one-off gesture.
Context helps explain the sturdiness of the metaphor. Rice wrote through eras when public talk prized grit: the early 20th-century press, the mythology of fair play, the churn of war years and economic anxiety. “Kindness” could sound soft in that world, so he gives it a tough job: pain management. The line flatters no one, promises no justice, and offers no sentimental payoff. It simply proposes an advantage: kindness makes you harder to injure without making you harder to be around.
The subtext is almost tactical: be kind for self-preservation as much as for virtue. Rice is smuggling in an egoistic argument for decency, which is why it lands. If kindness is “in ourselves,” it’s not performative. It’s a cultivated habit, a temperament that functions like a buffer. The phrase “blunts the sting” also suggests repetition; stings happen often enough that you need a standing remedy, not a one-off gesture.
Context helps explain the sturdiness of the metaphor. Rice wrote through eras when public talk prized grit: the early 20th-century press, the mythology of fair play, the churn of war years and economic anxiety. “Kindness” could sound soft in that world, so he gives it a tough job: pain management. The line flatters no one, promises no justice, and offers no sentimental payoff. It simply proposes an advantage: kindness makes you harder to injure without making you harder to be around.
Quote Details
| Topic | Kindness |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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