Let us make a careful study of insults! says the learned man.
All of us insult another every time we can,
By not listening for a second or two,
By speaking of love, but out of turn.
And by insulting myself, I once insulted you.
When the sun received the smallest slight,
It shocked half the world: night.
Insulting is like breathing—it’s what humans do.
Insult is why there’s torture and why great cities burn.
Just like people, insults are fat, or white, or small.
An insult may resemble a flea, a fire,
A god—beautiful and regal and tall.
An insult can be very beautiful—when to be
The most beautiful was your desire;
An insult can be something not insulting at all.
We must study insult, then, and see
Why insult is the public and secret heart of humanity.
They say, to avoid insult, stick to facts.
But the truth is deeply insulting. Reality is an axe.
They say the worst insult is based on race,
But the motive may have nothing to do with the shade of the face.
If you are in love, be ready to be insulted.
Insults are accidents. Love was not consulted.
Insult in love can make us frightened,
And love’s no help—the insult is heightened.
And strange, the worst insult is, “Let’s be friends.”
Friendship is beautiful. But not when love ends.