An Opposite (n.) sometimes has a hidden and unlikely pair. Opinion, it turns out, is opposed to desire, pleasure to anger, reason to pain'.
Opposite (n.) come to be only from their opposites — the larger from the smaller, the juster from the more unjust — and between each pair run two processes, one each way.
Opposite (n.) are the best of friends: dry desires wet, cold hot, empty full — the opposite is food for its opposite, while like takes no joy in like.
An Opposite (n.) is where a thing comes from: the larger grows out of the smaller, waking out of sleep, and so the living must come back out of the dead.
Opposite (n.) themselves never admit each other: when its opposite approaches, the tallness in us either flees or is destroyed — though I, the man, can admit shortness and remain myself.
An Opposite (n.) is held together by desire. Everything desires not like but that which is most unlike: The dry desires the moist, the cold the hot, bitter/sweet, sharp the blunt.
An Opposite (n.) is not so opposed. It is in fact things that are most alike that are most full of envy, strife, and hatred of one another, and the most unlike that are full of friendship: The sick/the doctor, the weak/the strong.