This line lands differently when you realize it's not about being nice to everyone—it's about refusing to let other people live rent-free in your head. Napoleon, of all people, understood that hatred is a weight you carry, not something you inflict. When you hate someone, you're essentially giving them control over your emotional life. They've won before any battle even starts.
The tricky part is that hatred can feel justified, even righteous. Someone wrongs you, and hating them feels like an appropriate response—like you're punishing them somehow. But hatred doesn't actually hurt the other person much. What it does is narrow your own vision, keeps you replaying old grievances, makes you interpret everything through the lens of that anger. You become smaller, not larger.
A true man—or person—has enough self-respect not to let that happen. It's not about forgiveness exactly, or even about liking people who've hurt you. It's about refusing to be diminished by them. This is harder than it sounds because it means getting over things, moving forward, and letting people stay small in your rearview mirror rather than keeping them in your passenger seat forever.