Weather is a literary specialty, and no untrained hand can turn out a good article on it
Mark TwainRead
Love your enemy, it will scare the hell out of them.
Interpretation
Loving your enemies can disarm them and create unexpected outcomes.
This quote by Mark Twain suggests that embracing love towards those we consider our enemies can lead to surprising reactions. Rather than perpetuating animosity, showing love can create discomfort and challenge the normal dynamics of conflict, potentially transforming negative relationships in a positive way.
In practice
During a conflict resolution workshop, you might say this quote to emphasize the power of love in overcoming hostilities.
Weather is a literary specialty, and no untrained hand can turn out a good article on it
The easy part of being an artist is figuring out the message that everyone else is ready to hear. The hard part is waiting for the proper lull to make the announcement.
You can't reason with your heart; it has its own laws, and thumps about things which the intellect scorns.
To be good is noble; but to show others how to be good is nobler and no trouble.
Name the greatest of all inventors. Accident.
In Paris they just simply opened their eyes and stared when we spoke to them in French! We never did succeed in making those idiots understand their own language.
...The girls chirped and chatted like uncaged warblers. They were delirious with joy... Intoxications of lifeβs morning! Enchanted years! The wing of a dragonfly trembles! Oh, reader, whoever you may be, do you have such memories? Have you walked in the underbrush, pushing aside branches for the charming head behind you? Have you slid laughing, down some slope wet with rain, with the woman you loved?
Because of a great love, one is courageous.
Whenever I walk out on a stage, I'm begging for affection.
Love is not a business. It's not a transaction. It's not an exchange or something you get for doing something it's not a trade. It's a gift!
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.
Not the bee upon the blossom, In the pride o' sunny noon; Not the little sporting fairy, All beneath the simmer moon; Not the poet, in the moment Fancy lightens in his e'e, Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, That thy presence gi'es to me.
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