I've always felt that my relationship to the United States is analogous to a marriage. I love this country. I hate it. I get angry at it. I feel close to it. I'm charmed by it. I'm repelled by it. And it's a marriage that's gone on for let's say at least 50 years of my writing life, and in the course of that, what's happened? It's gotten worse. It's not what it used to be.
Usually when people say they have mixed feelings about something, it's a sort of euphemistic way of saying they hate it.
Up until now I'd always though RSI meant 'I hate my damn job'.
And being that happy makes me feel guilty. Because I shouldn't be. Not while my mum is feeling the way she is. How I can dare to be happy is beyond me, and I hate my guts for it.
Everybody in America is soft, and hates conflict. The cure for this, both in politics and social life, is the same - hardihood. Give them raw truth.
Lying is too much trouble. You have to make sure to taste each word before letting it off your tongue. I hate that. It's hard enough making people understand without lying.
I seriously hate pop music and all things super-commercial, so I'd be hard pressed to feel embarrassed by anything I listen to. Besides, I have a three-year-old, so I don't have time for guilty pleasures anyway!
I don't have to hate any person because I can always start anew, I can always reconcile.
I hate to generalize because there are always so many exceptions to any rule.
The life I walk binds my hands it makes me take things that I don’t understand I walk this dark world unknowing of what they hold true, forgetting the me I once knew, until you. The life I walk eternally was all I knew nothing more held me here to this earth until you. I feel the pain of every heart I take I feel the desire to replace all that I have grown to hate Darkness holds me close but the light still draws my empty soul The emptiness where I used pain to fill the hole no longer controls me, no longer calls me because of you.
Visually through my work, over and over, I'm trying to create characters that are - to some people they may be monstrous, and I hate that word, because I think they're just unique. Misfits. I purposefully want to present something a little different so that whether people are disturbed by it or not, they can wrestle with it.
The fiercest fire is hatred.
I turned to look into his face one last time. It was as if I could see the whole universe in his eyes. Maybe he was God, maybe he was simply enlightened. I didn't care right then, in that blessed moment, I just loved him. Later, though, the love was to turn to hate, to fear. They seemed so opposite, the feelings, yet they were all one note on his flute.
You know how cunningly mankind is planned: We have one loving and one hating hand. The loving's made to hold each other like, While with the hating other hand we strike.
I hate you. " I love you. " You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have. " I'm trying not to be.
Hate is nothing when weighed against survival. (Valentine)
Age is rarely despised but when it is, contemptible.
Why only hate? Where does love remain? Or at least a little decency toward other people?
The question is not, "Do you know you are a sinner?" the question is this, "As you have heard me preach the Gospel, has God so worked in your life that the sin you once loved you now hate?"
. . . you can hate a place with all your heart and soul and still be homesick for it.
