An excellent man; he has no enemies; and none of his friends like

Oscar Wilde, the poet of paradox and prophet of wit, once said with his sharp and knowing tongue: “An excellent man; he has no enemies; and none of his friends like him.” In this brief jest, Wilde hides a blade of truth — a mirror held up to the soul of humanity. For he reveals that to live so carefully as to offend no one is often to inspire no love either. The man who seeks to have no enemies must first renounce passion, conviction, and courage; and in so doing, he dulls the fire that draws true friendship. What seems a compliment — “an excellent man” — becomes, in Wilde’s hands, a quiet condemnation. It is the judgment of one who has lived too smoothly, too timidly, too afraid of life’s thunder to be truly alive.

The origin of this quote lies in Wilde’s piercing understanding of society and its masks. He lived among those who prided themselves on politeness, decorum, and respectability — but who often lacked sincerity and heart. Wilde, with the vision of an artist and the soul of a rebel, saw that virtue without warmth is a barren thing. The “excellent man” of his remark is not excellent in goodness, but in neutrality — he offends no one because he stands for nothing. His friends may tolerate him, but they do not like him, for there is nothing in him to love. And though he has no enemies, it is not because he has conquered hatred, but because he has avoided conflict — and thus, avoided truth.

In the ancient world, men of greatness were not measured by the number of friends they kept, but by the strength of their character. Socrates, who questioned all Athens, gained enemies among the powerful but friends among the wise. Caesar, whose ambition burned like a star, drew loyalty and hatred in equal measure. Even the prophets and saints, who spoke of peace, were persecuted for their truth. They all knew that to live rightly is to invite both devotion and opposition. For wherever the flame of conviction burns, it casts both light and shadow. The man who burns with no fire warms no heart and threatens no darkness. He simply exists — calm, safe, and utterly forgettable.

There is a story told of a certain Roman senator, a man known for his moderation, who never joined any faction, never took a side, and never spoke in anger. “He is beloved by all,” people said — until one day, when the Senate fell into turmoil and the city needed a voice of courage. Then the same people turned to him, and he was silent. His neutrality, once admired, became a symbol of cowardice. “Better an enemy who fights,” they said, “than a friend who does nothing.” In this story, as in Wilde’s aphorism, lies the moral that neutrality is not virtue, and that one who seeks only to be liked ends by being respected by none.

Wilde’s wit, as always, conceals compassion beneath its irony. He mocks not to destroy, but to awaken. His “excellent man” is a warning to all who prize approval over authenticity. To live so carefully as to offend no one is to build one’s house in the wind — it will neither stand firm nor shelter the soul. True friendship, like true greatness, is born from honesty, courage, and the willingness to risk disfavor. Those who are truly alive must sometimes be misunderstood. For the one who dares to speak truth will lose the shallow favor of many, but gain the deep loyalty of a few — and that is worth far more.

If we look around us, we see this truth in every age. The artist who paints what others fear to see, the leader who defies the tide of popular opinion, the friend who speaks an uncomfortable truth — these are the souls who may have enemies, but they also have real friends. The lukewarm man, the one who bends with every breeze, will be praised by all but remembered by none. The world may call him “excellent,” but history will pass him by. Wilde’s laughter, echoing across time, reminds us that the measure of a person lies not in how many approve, but in how deeply they are known and loved.

So, my children of courage and conscience, take heed of this lesson: seek not to be without enemies, but to be without hypocrisy. Speak your truth with grace, live your convictions with gentleness, and accept that not all will understand you. Be kind, but do not be hollow; be peaceable, but not passive. Better to have a few loyal hearts who love you for who you are than a crowd who smiles at your emptiness.

For in the end, the “excellent man” Wilde mocks is the one who fears life more than he loves it. But the one who dares to live passionately, to stand for truth, and to be fully human — that one may lose comfort, but he gains meaning. Let your life, then, be warm enough to draw friends and bright enough to cast shadows, and you will never perish in the chill of Wilde’s irony. For it is far better to be loved and opposed than to be praised and forgotten.