I hate the word homophobia. It's not a phobia. You are not scared. You are an asshole.
I had a mouse in my apartment and I couldn't sleep for two nights. I hate mice. They move so fast.
When I go to the movies, I like romance, comedy, and thrillers. I hate gore.
I hate how box office failures are blamed on an actress, yet I don’t see a box office failure blamed on men. I think a lot of the time in films, men get roles where they create their own destiny and women are just tools, supporters for that. I guess it’s because we live in a patriarchal society, where feminism is a dirty word.
I hate a liar. Maybe because I'm such a good one myself, heh? Anyway, to find someone has told an out and out lie puts him on the other side of the fence from me for all time.
I loathe, I hate, chick flicks.
I hate Valentine's Day. I think every day should be a day of romance. Then, on Valentine's Day, you should get to tell whoever you hate that you cannot stand them. There would be one day of hating, and 364 days of love.
I hate how in magazine pictures, they always stick me somewhere in the back. It means they don't think I'm the cute one.
I hate games I can't win.
I hate a mystery. I would have let the identity of the Commander’s successor remain a secret, as I have for fifteen years, but tonight’s opportunity was too tempting. With eight drunken Generals sleeping it off, I could have danced on their beds without waking them." - Valek
I hate the vamp jobs. They think they're so suave. It's not enough for them to slaughter and eat you like a zombie would. No, they want to be all sexy, too. And trust me: vampires? Not. Sexy.
I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people. Maybe if I had thanked him at some point, I'd be feeling less conflicted now. I thought about it a couple of times, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. And now it never will. Because we're going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Exactly how am I supposed to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I'm trying to slit his throat.
i hate not knowing what i did." _Eric
Jump way back to one time, Evie and me did this fashion shoot in a junk yard, in a slaughterhouse, in a mortuary. We'd go anywhere to look good by comparison, and what I realize is mostly what I hate about Evie is the fact that she's so vain and stupid and needy. But what I hate most is how she's just like me. What I really hate is me so I hate pretty much everybody.
I hate skin; I hate bones and bodies. I want to curl up inside of him and be carried there forever.
What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb," I had told Doctor Nolan. "A man doesn't have a worry in the world, while I've got a baby hanging over my head like a big stick, to keep me in line.
Oh, Myr," he chokes out. "I hate having to ask this of you..." He glances towards the car again, and I crouch down in the shadows, hoping it's too dark for him to see whether the window is open or closed. The woman pats his arm, cradling her hand against his elbow. "You know I'd do anything for you and Hil," she says. I like her voice. It's throaty and rich. "You'd do anything?" my father repeats numbly. "Even now? After -?" "Even now," the woman says firmly.
I hate everything you say, but not enough to kill you for it.
I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!
Goodwin scowled at her cup. "With all due respect, my lord, I hate it when you make sense.
Nervous states of the worst sort control me without pause. Everything that is not literature bores me and I hate it. I lack all aptitude for family life except, at best, as an observer. I have no family feeling and visitors make me almost feel as though I were maliciously being attacked.
Every death even the cruelest death drowns in the total indifference of Nature Nature herself would watch unmoved if we destroyed the entire human race I hate Nature this passionless spectator this unbreakable iceberg-face that can bear everything this goads us to greater and greater acts
I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.
I hate the very human inclination towards insensitivity
Or. I hate that word. It’s two letters long and stuffed to the gills with reasonable doubt.
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