As you get older you inevitably realise that some fights are not worth it or doomed to failure. You give up. You're not proud of it - it hurts and it eats at you like a cancer but it toughens you up and forms the miserable old git you will become.
And on an almost daily basis I'm sat opposite Ving Rhames and he's saying
" ...you might feel a slight sting. That's pride fuckin' with you. Fuck pride! Pride only hurts, it never helps. You fight through that shit. 'Cause a year from now, when you kicking it in the Caribbean, you gonna say to yourself, "Marcellus Wallace was right."
It won't be the Caribbean but it'll be reality and if you're lucky it'll be the quiet life. You'll not be happy but you might be at peace and you might just mutter "goddamn Marcellus you was right".