Best 8552 quotes in «hate quotes» category

Smile in the face of sorrow; hope in the face of despair; persevere in the face of obstacles, and love in the face of hate.

Smiling is not a choice It’s a Lifestyle Pass it on

Soeur Jeanne was free. Two weeks later Surin returned to Bordeaux. The following spring Father Tranquille died in a paroxysm of demoniac frenzy. The treasury ceased to pay the salary of the surviving exorcists, who were all recalled to their various houses. Left to themselves such devils as remained soon took their leave. After six years of incessant struggle, the Church Militant gave up the fight. Its enemies promptly disappeared. The long orgy was at an end. If there had been no exorcists, it would never have begun.

Societies that preach hate are where people no longer know how to live. - On Hate Hour

So everybody who talks about homosexuals as a damnation better look in a mirror and try to heal their own selves. Who they call homosexuals do, at least, act out of their love. That’s better than the hate a whole lot of people act out of.

So it went on continually, the recurrence of love and conflict between them. One day it seemed as if everything was shattered, all life spoiled, ruined, desolate and laid waste. The next day it was all marvellous again, just marvellous. One day she thought she would go mad from his very presence, the sound of his drinking was detestable to her. The next day she loved and rejoiced in the way he crossed the floor, he was sun, moon and stars in one.

So many hypocrites, people busy preaching acceptance and tolerance but hating and rejecting everyone who isn't exactly like them.

So many reasons to hate and still I choose to love anyway...

Some kinds of misery make you hate the world, but some kinds make you hate yourself, and--butter and cheese not withstanding--Neve had no question that Spear was the latter.

Some of the people who hate me love some of the sentences that I have written, until they get to the name of the person to whom the sentences are attributed.

Some might say; loving is worse than hating, yet leaving is the worst.

Someone who loves you just for your ideas will end up hating you for those same ideas.

Some of you have it ingrained in you. You weren't born with it. No baby has hate for anything. We were all babies once, right? This little guy doesn't care what country you were born in or what religion you might practice or how much you weigh or who you might love.

Someone made a grievous mistake when summer was created; no novitiate or god in their right mind would make a season akin to hell on purpose. Someone should be fired.

Someone who hates one group will end up hating everyone - and, ultimately, hating himself or herself.

Some people are each holding on to a lover of theirs who no longer loves them and/or who they no longer love, only because they do not want to have a reason or another reason to be jealous of the person who would eventually be their lover if they let go of them.

Some people hate the rain, other appreciate it for the blooming flowers.

Some people hate people who are overconfident, only because their overconfidence reminds them of their underconfidence.

Some people love me for being odd, and some want to kill me for the same reason

Some people's glasses are half full. I'm the one drinking them. Some people have forgotten that Pluto is still a planet. I still remember my childhood. Some people are vegans. I have common sense. Some people call me Maurice. Some people call me the Gangsta of Love. Some people just want to live...but me, I'm the one still alive.

Some people will hate you for not loving them.

Some ride the bullet to vent, while some shoot the bullet to revenge.

Some say Twitter is overrated. Some love it, others hate it. I guess it depends on what you've got, If you have guts to write a funny plot!

Sometimes even a "Yes" can be fatal for our Souls

Sometimes, for revenge to be as sweet and painful as it is intended, some time has to pass. Time enough that people have forgotten about past hurts and humiliations. Time enough to make the poison of bitterness consume a soul. It was to be that time... Two worlds collide and find a common link. A plan was made, a price was paid and revenge was set in motion.

Sometimes he wondered if he did these things just to test himself. To see if the feelings had gone. But they had not. When he saw her, he wanted to be with her; when he was with her, he ached to touch her; when he touched even her hand, he wanted to embrace her. He wanted to feel her against him the way he had in the attic. He wanted to know the taste of her skin and the smell of her hair. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to sit and listen to her talk about books until his ears fell off. But all these things he could not want, because they were things he could not have, and wanting what you could not have led to misery and madness.

Sometimes I can feel my darkness, like a fragment of nerves inside of me somewhere, sparking my hate. I picture it moving throughout my body, the other cells letting it pass by, yielding to its master. It moves to my tongue when it wants me to spew beautiful, damaging words, it moves to my hands when it wants me to feel all it can take away, and it moves to my eyes to blind me from truly seeing the destruction I’ve done.

Sometimes I help him out and sometimes he helps me out, and sometimes he tries to push me through the wall. (Dark City Lights)

Sometimes hate is silence, some stuff are made in such way that they are in front of your eyes.

Sometimes I reach the highest heights of hope, at other times I reach the deepest of despair. Sometimes I am happy, at other times I am sad. At some point I am a believer, and at some other time an unbeliever. Sometimes I love, some other times I hate. That’s what it means to be human.

Sometimes, in my world where parents hated one another and school was a battleground, it sucked to be me.

Sometimes life is like living in a chamber of Liquid Oxygen. Liquid don't allow you to live and Oxygen don't let you die.

Sometimes I think my scars are beautiful, but then I remember not everyone shares the same love of art.

Sometimes, lies were the same things as wishes. Sometimes, wishes were things to hate.

Sometimes people hate you. Just hate them back.

Sometimes witchraft is when the heart is full of hate that it consumes your mind not appreciate good things that are done by other people.

Sometimes the universe works in a really weird way. You hate the people who love you, and you love the people who just aren't really that into you. And then there are those who love you as you love them, but fate just decides that you're not meant to be.

Sometimes we create images of the people we love and hate in our minds, and those images override what we see with our eyes, even when they are right in front of us. Even if we've imagined them to be monsters, to see them as they truly are with our eyes and our hearts is sometimes shocking.

Sometimes what you love to do could even make many people to hate you. You may go through non-formal torments, character assassinations, verbal assaults and societal rejections, but if you are convinced about your love for what you are doing, you will never give up.

Sometime the witch hunting takes on atrocious dimensions — the Nazi persecution of Jews, the Salem witch trials, the Ku Klux Klan scapegoating of blacks. Notice, however, that in all such cases the persecutor hates the persecuted for precisely those traits that the persecutor displays with a glaringly uncivilized fury. At other times, the witch hunt appears in less terrifying proportions—the cold war fear of a "Commie under every bed," for instance. And often, it appears in comic form—the interminable gossip about everybody else that tells you much more about the gossiper than about the object of gossip. But all of these are instances of individuals desperate to prove that their own shadows belong to other people. Many men and women will launch into tirades about how disgusting homosexuals are. Despite how decent and rational they otherwise try to behave, they find themselves seized with a loathing of any homosexual, and in an emotional outrage will advocate such things as suspending gay civil rights (or worse). But why does such an individual hate homosexuals so passionately? Oddly, he doesn’t hate the homosexual because he is homosexual; he hates him because he sees in the homosexual what he secretly fears he himself might become. He is most uncomfortable with his own natural, unavoidable, but minor homosexual tendencies, and so projects them. He thus comes to hate the homosexual inclinations in other people—but only because he first hates them in himself. And so, in one form or another, the witch hunt goes. We hate people "because," we say, they are dirty, stupid, perverted, immoral.... They might be exactly what we say they are. Or they might not. That is totally irrelevent, however, because we hate them only if we ourselves unknowingly possess the despised traits ascribed to them. We hate them because they are a constant reminder of aspects of ourselves that we are loathe to admit. We are starting to see an important indicator of projection. Those items in the environment (people or things) that strongly affect us instead of just informing us are usually our own projections. Items that bother us, upset us, repulse us, or at the other extreme, attract us, compel us, obsess us—these are usually reflections of the shadow. As an old proverb has it, I looked, and looked, and this I came to see: That what I thought was you and you, Was really me and me.

So much anger in here. So much hate. So much to take out on someone. This time it's going to count. She's adrift in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, three hundred kilometers from land. She's alone. She has nothing to eat. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. She's alive; that alone gives her the upper hand.

So much hate to go around, it's hard not to hate back. Much harder than learning to fight back.

Sometimes the people we love make us hate some other people we love.

Some women would not cheat, and some would not have cheated, had they each married a man whom they love … or at least like.

So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life.

So there was love, once. More than love. And now there is more than hate. Mortals have no words for what we gods feel. Gods have no words for such things. But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always love left, underneath. Horrible, isn't it?

So they layered cynicism atop their longing, and it was something like laying laughter over the darkness - self-preservation of an uglier stripe. And thus did they harden themselves, by choosing to meet hate with hate.

Speculation, movements having abandoned rational thought, echo chambers, projection, hypocrisy by little to no self-awareness, bewildering minds brainwashed and manipulative hearts manipulated - one is sure to find these à la people cock-sure in their biased and fanatical, immovable despising of persons. We would all do well to humbly re-think from time to time: 'Whom do I really hate? For what purpose?

Start wherever you are! Low hanging fruit really tastes as good as the high stuff.

Staying with detractors is like sleeping in a room located just behind the public toilet. You will never feel comfortable until you relocate.