Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction.
When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.
People hate as they love, unreasonably.
The worst enemy is one whose doctrines are founded in hate and are thus beyond debate.
Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity, or registering wrongs.
Love makes everything lovely; hate concentrates itself on the one thing hated.
I think that hate is a feeling that can only exist where there is no understanding.
Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called everybody, and they meet at the bar.
Hatred is something peculiar. You will always find it strongest and most violent where there is the lowest degree of culture.
I love the way you love, but I hate the way I'm supposed to love you back.
Love may be blind, but this I'll state - it's eagle-eyed compared to hate.
All I want is to mess around, and I don't really care about, if you love me, if you hate me, you can't save me, baby baby, all my life I've been good
Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him.
It is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. This is how the whole scheme of things works. All good things are difficult to achieve; and bad things are very easy to get.
Passionate hatred can give meaning and purpose to an empty life.
I think all women go through periods where we hate this about ourselves, we don't like that. It's great to get to a place where you dismiss anything you're worried about. I find flaws attractive. I find scars attractive.
That mirror, that's one I hate to let go, he said. That was my daughter's the whole time she was growing up. It probably seen her more than me--everything from a baby up to twenty years old. Sometimes I wonder if all that might still be inside it. Got to make an impression on a thing, reflecting the same person every day.
If you believe that there’s a heaven and hell and people could be going to hell—or not getting eternal life or whatever—and you think that, well, it’s not really worth telling them this because it would make it socially awkward. . . . How much do you have to hate somebody to not proselytize? How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?
Hate no one; hate their vices, not themselves.
Just remember; someone loves everything you hate about yourself.
It is to the credit of human nature, that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates. Hatred, by a gradual and quiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change be impeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling of hostility.
Hatred is like fire, it makes even light rubbish deadly.
I hate quotations. Tell me what you know.
Hatred can be overcome only by love.
The more I looked at people, the more I hated them.
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