Love’s hate behind a white veil; a red balloon bursting
in my face. Bang.
Andrew hated to see her humiliated and pathetic like this, but he half hated her too, for landing herself in it.
Hatred simmers beneath my skin, prickling sharp and hot.
There's hardly nobody or nothing we don't hate.
But hatred and viciousness are addictive. You can get high on them. Once you've had a little, you start shaking if you don't get more.
He had measured the time in hatred and resentment.
We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.
They hated him, and this hatred was blacker than their hearts, blacker than their skins, redder than their blood, and harder, by far, than his club.
One of the reasons people cling to hate so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, that they will be forced to deal with pain.
Why they chose to cast me away I do not know. But those whom we have abused we customarily grow to hate and wish never to lay eyes on again.