You get a sense of the achievement from paragraph 25 of the Northern Ireland agreement. It's about the new assembly for the province. Those who hold office, we are informed, "should use only non-violent means".
Violence is the black undercurrent that pervades Northern Ireland. The line tells us of the importance of this peace deal, and the difficulties it faces.
Shortly after the final 32 hours of non-stop negotiations, the talks chairman, George Mitchell, emerged from the cheerless office block where, for two years, he'd presided over negotiations. He recalled, with no great fondness, the insults, the approach that said compromise was pathetic, and that every step is measured in victory or defeat.
The former American senator was always too polite to say this - but I remembered one of his staff telling me six months into the talks that George Mitchell had met some real bigots in his time as senate majority leader, but none like he'd met around the Belfast talks table. At last though, his patience, his steel, his good-humour had paid off.
In contrast to George Mitchell's stiff gait, John Hume was - for John Hume - full of beans. The leader of the Irish nationalist SDLP had spent the last 30 years working towards this. Now, though, John Hume was twinkling.
He even moved away from the bland political-speak which has, more and more, become his defence mechanism against despair. After some prompting, he allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation.
The final delay in reaching a settlement had been down to the Ulster Unionists - the main party wanting to keep Northern Ireland embedded in the United Kingdom. A row was spitting within the party. It still is.
The deal had been pushed through by the Ulster Unionists' complex, uncomfortable leader, David Trimble. He's a man under enormous pressure - especially from the hardliners within his own party. He rarely seems at ease.
In press conferences, as in private, he swings from smiles to sternness with little warning - often flushing deep red as he makes his point. I had bumped into David Trimble at 7.30 on the Friday morning. After a freezing night, with the one coffee machine out of order, a colleague and I had decided to risk leaving the talks for half an hour.
We skipped to a nearby hotel to gulp down a hot drink and splash some water on our faces. But our taxi back did not arrive. As we waited, David Trimble walked through the hotel lobby - he'd had a four-hour sleep - and, along with two minders, was getting into his car.
"Mr Trimble," I called after him. "I know this is terribly cheeky, but our taxi back to Stormont hasn't turned up. Could we get a lift with you?"
Rather than tell me to go away - this was the most important day of his political life, and he didn't want to gather his thoughts in the company of two journalists - David Trimble did what David Trimble does in these situations.
He balanced - one foot inside the car, one foot outside, flushed, waved his newspaper, and looked awkward.
I resolved the impasse by saying, "Don't worry, we'll wait for the taxi."
To the Reverend Doctor Ian Paisley, David Trimble is a traitor. The Reverend leads the hardline Democratic Unionist Party, which stomped out of the multi-party talks last July. He returned twice in the final week to the talks venue - to make his point that these negotiations were selling the province to the papists in the Irish Republic.
The Reverend's second appearance came on Thursday night, as the deadline for agreement came and went, at midnight. This time, he brought with him a few hundred supporters, who - unlike him - did not have the right sort of paperwork to allow them into the grounds where the negotiations were happening.
They burst through the perimeter gates, waving union flags and singing songs of no-surrender. They were met by an arc of grey, armoured vehicles, and policemen in black riot gear. The two sides stood eyeball to eyeball.
I remembered the last time I had been in this situation. It was during the climax of last year's religious marching season - nine months ago. Then confrontation and bile poisoned the streets. It was a reminder that this peace deal is remarkable, but it's only a start.
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