And to be wroth with one we love…Doth work like madness in the brain. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I have seen gross intolerance shown in support of tolerance.

Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place (Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism, Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon, Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close, And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, Cries out, "Where is it?"

Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows, Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the ocean.