On Hatred
Hatred is a kind of powerful, deeply submerged disagreement: it's an aesthetic recognition that some note a thing strikes in your brain is violently discordant with your own internal harmonies. But in order for there to be disagreement, there also needs to be agreement -- people with no shared background assumptions can't disagree because they can't even communicate, like the way the low hum of a computer fan doesn't interfere with my appreciation of the music coming out of my speakers -- their waveforms have so little in common that there's no appreciable interaction between them.
Understanding that hatred exists in the valley between acceptance and incomprehension helps clarify bromides about the supposedly fine line between love and hate: the things you hate would be things you'd love, but for some key perversion that reorganizes the entire gestalt into something ugly, and the dissonance is painful. This is why the things you hate are informative about you: if you carefully observe the repulsion, you can deduce things about the interacting bodies.
Understanding that hatred exists in the valley between acceptance and incomprehension helps clarify bromides about the supposedly fine line between love and hate: the things you hate would be things you'd love, but for some key perversion that reorganizes the entire gestalt into something ugly, and the dissonance is painful. This is why the things you hate are informative about you: if you carefully observe the repulsion, you can deduce things about the interacting bodies.