Sticks and stones. . .

I grew up with the adage "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."  I have said that to myself numerous times, in numerous situations, but I have come to realise that that saying is nonsense.  It was probably coined by some poor soul who had been on the pointy end of somebody's tongue lashing in an attempt to lessen the blow.  Words are a magnificent tool when it comes to their ability to wound.  A well placed acerbic comment can effectively humiliate, undermine and reduce another to a quivering wreck in the time it takes to utter the sounds.  The sad thing about hurting people with words is that they cannot ever be fully retracted.  Once words have been spoken, the sentiment is there.  People who speak without thinking and realise that their words may have hurt someone will typically clap their hand over their mouths and apologise.  Others, who use words as their weapon of choice, are skilled at the art of word war.  They will make insidious comments that are difficult to pin point as an insult.  They will say hurtful things and end with a laugh as if making a joke.  If confronted, the word bully will say something like "Oh, don't be silly, I didn't mean it like that, I meant this. . . "  Or, "Oh, I think you must have the wrong end of the stick."  Yeah, right, the sharpened end!  The intended target, usually a well mannered pacifist, seethes, but says nothing and then lies awake all night thinking about the clever, caustic retorts they could have made.  We are taught to ignore hurtful words, but in all honesty, we can't.  Sometimes a comment is so hurtful that even years later the residue of those cruel words still resonate.  I live by a rule that I may think what I like, but those thoughts may not leave my mouth unless they absolutely have to.  So, give me sticks and stones any day.  At least I have a chance to defend myself.  Words do hurt me.