“He then stood there as the guards picked up the body of his enemy and carried it away. He stood there for a while, staring at the ground, oblivious of his soldiers cheering at a distance. Suddenly, he felt very tired. Still in a haze, he drifted back to his tent. Alone in his tent, he lied down and thought of his wife. He thought of the face of the dying old man. He realized that the pursuit of revenge against his enemy had been more satisfying than the actual act of killing him. Nothing had changed. He was still unhappy, and still yearned for his wife.”
Book:The Timingila