Dear Me I Hate You Quotes & Sayings

1.17 THE WORLDLY WAYS
The world, the din, the time, the kin,
In our days are a sin,
Love's condemned and not true,
A farce for sex, a laugh at You.
[179] - 1
Simplicity is a crime,
Frauds and liars are divine,
Sex is worshiped, live not true,
Cheat be cheated our mottos new.
[180] - 1
Love is lost - so dear to You,
And lovers are but a few,
'Cause they know that live if hell,
As customs are but their cell.
[181] - 1
The lies, the crime, the evil ways,
Are the paths of our days,
We love our neighbour as love's not true,
And hate the others cause they do too.
[182] - 1 — Munindra Misra

Mary! Mary! My dear, let me reason with you.
I hate reasoning, John, - especially reasoning on such subjects. There's a way you political folks have of coming round and round a plain right thing; and you don't believe in it yourselves, when it comes to practice. I know you well enough, John. You don't believe it's right any more than I do; and you wouldn't do it any sooner than I. — Harriet Beecher Stowe

Letter to Myself, in Remission, from Myself, Terminal"

You'll come to hate your own poems,
read them as pretty wisps of colorful thinking,
all those images just a splash of colored oil
sloshed over a pool gone rancid. Admit it.
Atheists always scared you. And no wonder.
Those nights you switched on the fan so no one
could hear you scream into your pillow, weeping
and biting your own hands like a motherless
monkey,banded to a body that despised you,
a suit of coals with a jammed-shut zipper.
Instead of the truth, you took refuge in stories
and souls, wore the word survivor like a pink nimbus.
All the while, my dear, I waited, knowing
you'd catch up to me one day. I'm holding the black-
backed mirror to your face. Look into it. — Anya Krugovoy Silver

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving, — William Shakespeare

To say that a sentient being is not harmed by death denies that the being has the very interest that sentience serves to perpetuate. It would be analogous to saying that a being with eyes does not have an interest in continuing to see or is not harmed by being made blind. The Jains of India expressed it well long ago: All beings are fond of life, like pleasure, hate pain, shun destruction, like life, long to live. To all life is dear. — Gary L. Francione

I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here. — Charlotte Bronte

Dear Sir, poor sir, brave sir." he read, "You are an experiment by the Creator of the Universe. You are the only creature in the entire Universe who has free will. You are the only one who has to figure out what to do next - and why. Everybody else is a robot, a machine. Some persons seem to like you, and others seem to hate you, and you must wonder why. They are simply liking machines and hating machines. You are pooped and demoralized, " read Dwayne. "Why wouldn't you be? Of course it is exhausting, having to reason all the time in a universe which wasn't meant to be reasonable. — Kurt Vonnegut

You were mad, do you think I should hate you?" "I do indeed, sir." "Then you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still: if you raved, my arms should confine you, and not a strait waistcoat - your grasp, even in fury, would have a charm for me: if you flew at me as wildly as that woman did this morning, I should receive you in an embrace, at least as fond as it would be restrictive. I should not shrink from you with disgust as I did from her: in your quiet moments you should have no watcher and no nurse but me; and I could hang over you with untiring tenderness, though you gave me no smile in return; and never weary of gazing into your eyes, though they had no longer a ray of recognition for — Charlotte Bronte

Wit was insulting each person as they stepped onto the island. "Brightness Marakal! What a
disaster that hairstyle is; how brave of you to show it to the world. Brightlord Marakal, I wish you'd
warned us you were going to attend; I'd have forgone supper. I do so hate being sick after a full meal.
Brightlord Cadilar! How good it is to see you. Your face reminds me of someone dear to me."
"Really?" wizened Cadilar said, hesitating.
"Yes," Wit said, waving him on, "my horse. Ah, Brightlord Neteb, you smell unique today - did you
attack a wet whitespine, or did one just sneeze on you? Lady Alami! No, please, don't speak - it's much
easier to maintain my illusions regarding your intelligence that way. And Brightlord Dalinar." Wit nodded
to Dalinar as he passed. "Ah, my dear Brightlord Taselin. Still engaged in your experiment to prove a
maximum threshold of human idiocy? Good for you! Very empirical of you. — Brandon Sanderson

She that asks
Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all,
And hates their coming. — William Cowper

He opened the first letter, No "Dear Mr. Woods." It was a page full of profanities. There was something oddly refreshing about honest, to-the-point hate mail. No hypocrisy and forced politeness. Too many letters ripped you to shreds, then closed off 'Sincerely yours. — Randy Alcorn

Slowly I learnt the ways of humans: how to ruin, how to hate, how to debase, how to humiliate. And at the feet of my Master I learnt the highest of human skills, the skill no other creature owns: I finally learnt how to lie. — Nick Dear

Never to be outdone, my wife, who also happens to be a psychoanalyst and therefore a specialist in ambivalence, wrote the following to me: 'Dear Simon, Break a leg, or all your legs. I better brake fast. With all my love-hate, Jamieson (who is about to drive us off a cliff) — Simon Critchley

You behave like an unknown stranger to the loved ones and to the outer world, you portray to be the nicest-bestest-calmest-well-behaved-EST , This-EST and That-EST..
Yes, You're earning the appreciation of others but how much your near and dear ones hate you.. you cannot count,my dear! — Himmilicious

[As Garibaldi says,] 'Sleep, my dear Chevalley, sleep, that is what Sicilians want, and they will always hate anyone who tries to wake them ... — Frances Mayes

Dear Karma, I really hate you right now, you made your point. — Ottilie Weber

Dear Complete and Utter Stranger,
The first thing that I have to say is that I hate oatmeal. I really hate it. And you know what? If you like oatmeal at all? I mean even the tiniest bit? I mean, say you were lost in the Himalayas, right, and you hadn't eaten anything except a Mars Bar for about seven years, right, and you're really cold and your fingers are all dropping off, right, and you look behind this rock, and there's this bowl of oatmeal?
Say you would even think about eating the oatmeal?
Well, JUST DON'T BOTHER WRITING TO ME, OKAY? — Jaclyn Moriarty

Many more have died of attempting love than victory, and countless numbers hate love more than war. Honor has often been the dear prize awarded to the killers of lovers. The epics of war have always and still outnumber the epics of love. For those who love deeply and greatly gain a clairvoyant, excruciating awareness of the fear and suffering of the world along with their joy, which few warriors could endure. Who is not more truly afraid of a love story than of a tale of war? — Patricia Storace

Instead of spending your dear energy on hating enemies,
Utilize this energy to love your friends a little harder truly.
[229] - 4 (Thoughts) — Munindra Misra

I shall never love anybody. I can't love people. I hate them.'
'The time will come, dear, the time will come. — George Eliot

Alice?" She spun toward the door, her skirts whirling softly. "Yes?" she forced out. "Do you know what I am holding in my hand?" "No." "Care to guess?" "A pitchfork?" she asked in a stilted attempt at levity, hoping to invoke his earlier, playful mood. "No, my dear," he answered drily. "A key to your room." "What?"she breathed, aghast. "I should hate to have to use it." "You have a key to this room?" "Mm-hmm." She took a step toward the door, panic rising up in her throat. "You're bluffing!" "Do you wish me to prove it? — Gaelen Foley

I am no friend of probability theory, I have hated it from the first moment when our dear friend Max Born gave it birth. For it could be seen how easy and simple it made everything, in principle, everything ironed and the true problems concealed. Everybody must jump on the bandwagon [Ausweg]. And actually not a year passed before it became an official credo, and it still is. — Erwin Schrodinger

Misanthropy ariseth from a man trusting another without having sufficient knowledge of his character, and, thinking him to be truthful, sincere, and honourable, finds a little afterwards that he is wicked, faithless, and then he meets with another of the same character. When a man experiences this often, and more particularly from those whom he considered his most dear and best friends, at last, having frequently made a slip, he hates the whole world, and thinks that there is nothing sound at all in any of them. — Plato

I hate to say this, but not everyone seems happy that you're still alive," Finn said, picking up on the glares coming my way.
"You can't please everyone," I drawled. "And you know how much I hate to disappoint our dear friends in the underworld. — Jennifer Estep

I know she'll hate him. She likes to be the only one, you know. She likes to dream that she's queen and that when the rest are dead there'll be no one who can order her to do anything. She said, dear, that she'd burn down the whole place, burn down Goremenghast when she was ruler and she'd live on her own, and I said she was wicked, and she said that everyone was- everyone and everything except rivers, clouds, and some rabbits. She makes me frightened sometimes. — Mervyn Peake

Hermes gazed up at the stars. 'My dear young cousin, if there's one thing I've learned over the eons, it's that you can't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it. It doesn't matter if they hate you, or embarrass you, or simply don't appreciate your genius for inventing the Internet
— Rick Riordan

Satan hates God for His own sake, and everything that is dear to God he hates for the very reason that God loves it. — Aiden Wilson Tozer

The kind of woman who could pleasantly instruct you to fuck off, dear, and you immediately would because you'd just hate to disappoint her. — Neal Stephenson

The whole question of pornography seems to me a question of secrecy. Without secrecy there would be no pornography. But secrecy and modesty are two utterly different things. Secrecy has always an element of fear in it, amounting very often to hate. Modesty is gentle and reserved. Today, modesty is thrown to the winds, even in the presence of the grey guardians. But secrecy is hugged, being a vice in itself. And the attitude of the grey ones is: Dear young ladies, you may abandon all modesty, so long as you hug your dirty little secret. — D.H. Lawrence

My requirements in a husband are simple," she informed him smoothly. "All I want is a man who will hold me above everything else, including his horse, his fortune, and his pride."
Hearing that simple yet seemingly impossible declaration was like a blow to Grey's solar plexus. She was going to be so disappointed, the poor thing. How perverted was it of him to secretly rejoice over her wants? She might find a man who could love her more than his horse, perhaps even more than his fortune, but never would she find a man willing to sacrifice his pride-not without that same man coming to hate her for it eventually.
"More than his horse?" he joked. "My dear girl, you ask too much. — Kathryn Smith

If God would grant us the vision, the word sacrifice would disappear from our lips and thoughts; we would hate the things that seem now so dear to us; our lives would suddenly be too short, we would despise time-robbing distractions and charge the enemy with all our energies in the name of Christ. May God help us ourselves by the eternities that separate the Aucas from a Comprehension of Christmas and Him, who, though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor so that we might, through his poverty, be made rich. — Nate Saint

Another voice rages.
I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!
A sunflower leans over the fence, smiling
How dare you!
I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.
The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.
'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.'
'Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?'
'No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.'
'Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning. — Bill Condon

Boating, my dear Mrs. Bedel, is the dullest of all things; don't you think so? Because a boat looks very pretty from the shore, we fancy that the shore must look very pretty from a boat; and when we try it, we find we have only got down into a pit and can see nothing rightly. For my part, I hate boating and I hate the water ... — J. Sheridan Le Fanu

I made him take some broth," Lillian explained. "I had the devil of a time getting him to swallow - he wasn't precisely what one would call conscious - but I persisted until I had poured a quarter cup or so down his throat. I think he relented in the hopes that I was a bad dream that might go away if he humored me."
Evie had been unable to induce Sebastian to drink anything since the previous morning. "You are the most wonderful - "
"Yes, yes, I know." Lillian airily waved away the words, uncomfortable as always with praise. "Your tray was just brought up - it's there on the table by the window. Mulled eggs and toast. Eat every bite, dear. I should hate to have to use force on you too. — Lisa Kleypas

But dear, you hate to sew.
I will be married soon. Lady Thiel says a woman with needlework in her hands is generally assumed to have no other thoughts in her head and can safely harbor any number of improprieties. That will come in handy, especially when I'm married to a wizard. — Patricia A. McKillip

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught. — Rodgers & Hammerstein

I can't curse those who don't believe as I do. I can't express hate or disdain for those who criticize what I hold dear. I can't outshout, bully, or taunt them. I can't exercise the liberty of free speech because I answer to a higher law.
I answer to the Word of God. — Lori Hatcher

Only common mortals like the Somervilles have good old rotten hates, dear,' said her mother. 'Sir Graham manages to love everybody and wouldn't know what you're talking about. Have a bun.'

'He doesn't love the Turks,' said Philippa. 'He kills them.'

'That isn't hate,' said Kate Somerville. 'That's simply hoeing among one's principles to keep them healthy and neat. I'm sure he would tell you he bears them no personal grudge; and they think they're going to Paradise anyway, so it does everyone good. — Dorothy Dunnett

Dear Mornings,I know you hate me but don't you worry because I hate you too! — Sonya Watson

You wrote this right?" he said. "It tells how to defeat Set."
Thoth unfolded the papyrus pages. "Oh, dear. I hate reading my old work. Look at this sentence. I'd never write it that way now." He patted his lab coat pockets. "Red pen - does anyone have one?"
Isis chafed against my willpower, insisting that we blast some sense into Thoth. One fireball, she pleaded. Just one enormous magical fireball?
I couldn't say I was tempted, but I kept her under control.
"Since when does drool make you powerful? — Rick Riordan

You'll be angry, but I'm going to ask anyway. Will you marry me?' The unsupported voice, the one that happened when he couldn't breathe, but had to speak.
I nudged his hands apart to see his face, and found it faintly overcast by tension. 'No,' I said gently,
He blinked again and asked, his voice unaltered, 'May I ask you once a year, every seventh of December, in case the answer changes?'
'Yes. I don't think it will.'
'Oh. I only ask because I hate the thought of not having breakfast with you for the rest of my life.'
'My dear,' I said. 'Jamie. That's a different question.'
'Oh. Will you have breakfast with me for the rest of my life?'
'Probably. — Steven Brust

Dear Mommy
I'm doing really good,
I get all A's in school
And I don't cry at bedtime anymore,
Though my new mom said I could.
I remember how much you hate tears,
You slapped them out of me
To make me strong,
I think it worked.
I learned to use a microscope
And my hair grew two inches.
It's pretty, just like yours.
I'm not allowed to clean the house,
Only my own room,
Isn't that a funny rule?
You say kids are so much trouble
Getting born, they better pay it back.
I'm not supposed to take care
Of the other kids, only me, I sort of like it.
I still get the hole in my stomach
When I do something wrong,
I have a saying on my mirror
"Kids make mistakes, It's OK,"
I read it every day,
Sometimes I even believe it.
I wonder if you ever think of me
Or if you're glad the troublemaker's gone,
I never want to see you again.
I love you, Mommy. — Karyl McBride

I don't know whether the spider perhaps does not hate the fly he has marked and is snaring. Dear little fly! It seems to me that the victim is loved, or at least may be loved. Here I love my enemy. I am delighted, for instance, that she is so beautiful. I am delighted, madam, that you are so haughty and majestic. If you were meeker it would not be so delightful. You have spat on me
and I am triumphant. If you were literally to spit in my face I should really not be angry because you
are my victim; mine and not his. How fascinating was that idea! Yes, the secret consciousness of power is more insupportably delightful than open domination. If I were a millionaire I believe I should take pleasure in going about in the oldest clothes and being taken for a destitute man, almost a beggar, being jostled and despised. The consciousness of the truth would be enough for me. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Brother dear," I said, "did your soul leave your body while Amos was talking, or did you actually hear him? Egyptian gods real. Red Lord bad. Red Lord's birthday: very soon, very bad. House of Life: fussy magicians who hate our family because dad was a bit of a rebel, whom you could take a lesson from. Which leaves us - just us - with Dad missing, an evil god about to destroy the world, and an uncle who just jumped off the building - and I can't actually blame him." I took a breath. [Yes, Carter, I do have to breathe occasionally.] — Rick Riordan