Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.

The cycle never closes with revenge

We've all felt the pull toward retaliation. Someone hurts us, and there's an almost magnetic draw toward hurting them back—as if evening the score will somehow make us feel better. But King points at something that actually happens: it doesn't. When you meet aggression with aggression, you don't close a wound. You deepen it, and now there are two people invested in continuing the cycle.

The trick is that this doesn't just apply to dramatic violence. It shows up everywhere. Snapping back at a coworker's criticism, cutting off a friend who disappointed you, matching someone's coldness with your own distance. Each response feels justified in the moment—they started it, after all. But each one also locks you both into a particular dance where the next move is already written.

The harder path King is describing isn't about being a doormat. It's about refusing to let someone else's darkness become your darkness too. When you respond differently than expected—with calm, with firmness, with something other than the same energy you received—you actually introduce something new into the situation. That's where real change lives. Not in matching what was given, but in offering what was needed instead.