Simone Weil once said, "I would like to achieve the kind of radiance that can bring about nonviolently what other people might have to do violently." And, of course, we see teachers like that. We see parents like that, who have a kind of radiance so that they don't have to raise their voice; they don't have to beat their children. . . . They simply make a different atmosphere.
The nonviolent approach does not immediately change the heart of the oppressor. It first does something to the hearts and souls of those committed to it. It gives them new self-respect; it calls up resources of strength and courage that they did not know they had. Finally it reaches the opponent and so stirs his conscience that reconciliation becomes a reality.
Nonviolence is not some exalted regimen that can be practiced only by a monk or a master; it also pertains to the way one interacts with a child, vacuums a carpet, or waits in line. . . . Whenever we separate ourselves from a given situation (for example, through inattentiveness, negative judgments, or impatience), we "kill" something valuable: . . . people, things, one's own composure, the moment itself. . . . These small-scale incidences of violence accumulate relentlessly, are multiplied on a social level, and become a source of the large-scale violence that can sweep down upon us so suddenly. . . . One need not wait until war is declared and bullets are flying to work for peace. . . . A more constant and equally urgent battle must be waged each day against the forces of one's own anger, carelessness, and self-absorption.
Nonviolence doesn't always work — but violence never does.