Best 8552 quotes in «hate quotes» category

saying goodbye isnt hard, but saying it to something you care about is whats hard, because you dont want to forget the emmotional pain and happiness they caused in you're life.

Se anche non rimanesse che un solo tedesco decente, quest'unico tedesco meriterebbe di essere difeso contro quella banda di barbari, e grazie a lui non si avrebbe il diritto di riversare il proprio odio su un popolo intero. […] L'odio indiscriminato è una malattia dell'anima, odiare non è nel mio carattere.

Seeds that hate dirt never rise.

Self-governance does not mean no one is responsible. It means everyone is.

Self-observation is simply the observation of an internal state and an external event. It is pure awareness, which gives one the ability to choose one's actions. Only by having the choice can one perform what is right.

September 11… I will never forget feeling scared and vulnerable… I will never forget feeling the deep sad loss of so many lives… I will never forget the smell of the smoke that reached across the water and delivered a deep feeling of doom into my gut… I will never forget feeling the boosted sense of unity and pride… I will never forget seeing the courageous actions of so many men and women… I will never forget seeing people of all backgrounds working together in community… I will never forget seeing what hate can destroy… I will never forget seeing what love can heal…

Se un uomo delle SS dovesse prendermi a calci fino alla morte io alzerei ancora gli occhi a guardarlo in viso, e mi chiederei, con un'esperessione di sbalordimento misto a paura, e per puro interesse nei confronti dell'umanità: Mio Dio, ragazzo, che cosa mai ti è capitato nella vita di tanto terribile da spingerti a simili azioni? Quando qualcuno mi rivolge parole di odio – e questo, in ogni caso, non succede spesso – non provo mai la tentazione di rispondere con l'odio, ma sprofondo improvvisamente nell'altro, in una sorta di disorientamento doloroso e al contempo interrogativo, e mi chiedo perché l'altro sia così, dimenticando me stessa.

Shall not I Learn place and wisdom? Have I not learned this, Only so much to hate my enemy, As though he might again become my friend, And so much good to wish to do my friend, As knowing he may yet become my foe?

She dared to cry? On this day of all days? I was the one who would be married at sunset, and I hadn't let myself cry in five years. There was ice in my lungs and in my heart. I was floating. I was swept away, and out of the cold I spoke to her in a voice as soft as snow, the gentle and obedient voice I had used to consent to every order that Father and Aunt Telomache ever gave me, every order that they would never give Astraia because they actually loved her. "You know, that Rhyme is a lie that Aunt Telomache only told you because you weren't strong enough to bear the truth." I had thought the words so often, they felt like nothing in my mouth, like no more than a breath of air, and as easily as breathing I went on. "The truth is, Mother died because of you, and now I have to die for your sake, too. And neither one of us will ever forgive you." Then I shoved her aside and strode out of the room.

She’d forgotten to love, but she also forgot to hate. (about Clara’s mother, who had dementia)

She didn’t want to keep talking about him as if everything was okay. Worst of all, she hated sorting through his mail. Reading the hatred people had for her family and worse, reading how others immortalized him into a god for what he’d done.

She had said: 'You could not hate anyone that much -' She was mistaken. What did she know? She felt so good right now, this must be hate, what else could it be? ("Mind Over Murder")

She hated herself more than she could express.

She hated him – she hated everything he stood for. But when they said hate is akin to love they were certainly right. Because she needed him with every fibre of her being. And hard as it was to admit it, that need was only part of what she felt for him. The whole was love – a love which recognised how wrong he was for her, but still clung to him. To everything about him.

She hated the love she had been given, because it had asked for nothing in return, which was absurd, unreal, against the laws of nature

she hated everything her parents loved

She hated his need to always win and he hated her coldness during their arguments. They fought about the exact color of the sky and which path they should take on a hunt. They disagreed passionately about whose fish was the best tasting. They could work up extreme hatred for each other at a moment's notice.

She hated Jourdan as she had never hated anyone in her life before. She tried to move away, but he wouldn't let her, his face a white mask of fury above her, and she realised that she had voiced her thoughts out loud. 'You don't hate me, mignonne,' he drawled with harsh cruelty, his fingers biting into the tender flesh of her arms. 'You hate yourself for being a woman...

She knew with painful certainty that the opposite of love was not hate, but indifference.

She loved Harry and so, when he disappeared, when he withdrew into vagueness and alcohol, she had despised him passionately.

She represents something about the corporate world that repel me, some deep coldness masked as relentless cheerfulness.

She wanted to get at the hate of them all, to pry at it and work at it until she found a little chink, and then pull out a pebble or a stone or a brick and then a part of the wall, and, once started, the whole edifice might roar down and be done away with.

Since love and hate can be fierce partners in crime, it is highly recommended to trace any early indicia of the fault lines in a shaky relationship in order to avert irreparable damage. ("Mes cliques et mes claques" )

She wasn't a cruel Bird. But her heart ached so badly for these sad, broken birds that, just as the Puppeteer had planned, she had begun to hate them. She hated them for making her feel so wretched, when she should be happiest. That happens sometimes.

Show me how much you hate me; so that I understand your love for me.

Simon hated her for that. Perhaps it was automatic. Her appearance alone made her different from him, and human beings had always feared and hated anyone who was different. Two thousand years of history saw it being repeated over and over, the perpetual struggle of one race, or tribe, or creed, against another... each one thinking they were right, superior, morally justified, or chosen by God. Simon saw himself as normal, Laura as abnormal.

Since you can’t be influence by people who hate you, you cannot influence people you hate also.

She wanted you to move forward without regrets, not to deny the past entirely.

Silly Felix, hate and love are the flip sides of the same tarnished coin.

Si no sientes nada por mi ¿Por qué siempre que estoy con otra chica te molestas? ¿Por qué aunque estés en los brazos de tu adorado novio me miras a mí?

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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