I Really Hate Her Quotes & Sayings

I hate to tell you this," she said with an apologetic smile, "but I don't think you're as special as you think you are."
"That only hurts because it's true. You really like me? A little?"
"Un peu. Enough that I want to talk to you instead of letting me fuck you," she said.
"Oh," he said, and weighed his words. "But we are still going to fuck, right?"
Juliette smiled again. And in her flawless elegant Frenchy she purred two beautiful words.
"Bien sur."
Of course. — Tiffany Reisz

Hell is a library," she said, tightening her fresh knot.

"That really doesn't sound bad, Julia."

"That's because I'm not finished. Hell is a library of books containing every word you've ever said, and videotapes of everything you've ever done."

"So what. Do you have to watch them?"

"No, you don't have to. But would you be able to help yourself? It would be unbearable. I couldn't resist, but I would hate myself after." She gave the noose two good, hard tugs. "Plus, even if you could resist the temptation, you'd eventually get so bored that you'd do anything. And the only thing to read is stuff that you've said and the only thing to do is watch yourself. — Ainslie Hogarth

I hate these affairs", he'd told her once, tearing up an engraved invitation to an exclusive charity ball. "They're the worst kind of discrimination. An invitation doesn't really mean that you're invited; it means that a whole lot of people aren't — Melinda Cross

You have told yourself that you have found your knight in shining armor, my brother Rick. Isn't that the truth? You met him and he fit the bill, so you have told yourself a wonderful story and, stubborn brat that you are, you have been clinging to it ever since. After all, what could be more appropriate than for Francesca Cahill, reformer extraordinaire, to fall in love with my reform-minded Republican brother? But wait! Being as this is a love story, there has to be an unhappy middle and the perfect hero isn't quite so perfect after all. For he is married. Oh, wait! It isn't that bad, after all, for as it turns out he is a man of virtue, and he really loves you, while he despises his wife! And did I forget to mention that she is vile and evil? So the story can limp along, and true love might survive after all! Does this sound at all familiar, Francesca?"
"I almost hate you," she whispered. And she felt a tear sliding down her cheek. — Brenda Joyce

God, I hate you," she says. "So much. Why do boys think that it will be better to lie and tell a girl how much they loved her and how they only dumped her for her own good? That they only tried to rearrange her brain for her own good? Does it make you feel better, Cassel? Does it? Because from my perspective, it really sucks. — Holly Black

Rant goes, "Really, truly with her whole entire heart, does Echo hate somebody?"
I go, doesn't Rant mean "love"?
And Rant shrugs and says, "Ain't it the same thing? — Chuck Palahniuk

It's ironic, really. Guys should be excited that I got Kristen Bell. If Brad Pitt gets Kristen Bell, it's like, 'Well, of course he did.' With me, it should be, 'Oh good, a normal-looking guy got her. Maybe I'll get me a Kristen Bell.' But guys hate my guts for always dating women I have no right to be with. — Dax Shepard

Then she said she wondered if she really loved me or not. I, of course, couldn't enlighten her as to that. And, after another silence, she murmured something about my being "a queer fellow." "And I daresay that's why I love you," she added. "But maybe that's why one day I'll come to hate you. — Albert Camus

I am now convinced that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him; they are even impartial towards her. I cannot find out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. — Jane Austen

You really do hate me, don't you? I mean, destroying someone's ice-cream cone? That's vicious."
Her cheeks reddened. "I didn't see you there. Honestly." She wiped at his shirt more frantically, as if she could prevent it from staining if she rubbed hard enough.
"Oh, now I see your plan, and it's far more devious than I thought." Daniel smirked. "You were looking for an excuse to grope me. — Amanda Hocking

Maybe Lindsay and I are best friends and we hate each other, both. Maybe I'm only one math class away from being a slut like Anna Cartullo. Maybe I am like her, deep down. Maybe we all are: just one lunch period away from eating alone in the bathroom. I wonder if it's ever really possible to know the truth about someone else, or if the best we can do is just stumble into each other, heads down, hoping to avoid collision. — Lauren Oliver

I know if i told her about liking guys, she'd probably stop wanting to date me, which would be a huge plus. but i also know i'd immediately become her gay pet, and that's the last kind of leash i want. and it's not like i'm really that gay. i fucking hate madonna. — David Levithan

You say you love your wife. You depend on her; she has given you her body, her emotions, her encouragement, a certain feeling of security and well-being. Then she turns away from you; she gets bored or goes off with someone else, and your whole emotional balance is destroyed, and this disturbance, which you don't like, is called jealousy. There is pain in it, anxiety, hate and violence. So what you are really saying is, 'As long as you belong to me I love you but the moment you don't I begin to hate you. — Jiddu Krishnamurti

You will leave now," she said softly, " or I will drag you out of here by your hair."
The man had breath like a day-old tuna sandwich. "I hate dykes. You always think you're tougher than you really
"
Xhex grabbed the man's wrist, turned him in a little circle, and cranked him arm up to the middle of his back. Then she clipped her leg around his ankles and shoved him off balance. He landed like a side of beef, the wind getting knocked out of him on a curse, his body plowing into the short-napped carpet. In a quick move, she bent down, buried one hand in his gelled-up hair, and locked the other on the collar of his suit jacket. As she draggep him face-first to the side exit, she was multitasking : creating a scene, commiting both an assault and a battery, and running the risk of a brawl if his buddies in the Hall of Fucktards got involved. But you had to put on a show every once in a while. To keep the peace, you had to get your hands dirty every once in a while. — J.R. Ward

I walked towards her. Jean-Claude grabbed my arm. "Do not harm her, Anita. She is under our protection."
"I swear to you that I will not lay a finger on her tonight. I just want to tell her something."
He released my arm, slowly, like he wasn't sure it was a good idea. I stepped next to Monica, until our bodies almost touched. I whispered into her face, "If anything happens to Catherine, I will see you dead."
She smirked at me, confident in her protectors. "They will bring me back as one of them."
I felt my head shake, a little to the right, a little to the left, a slow precise movement. "I will cut out your heart." I was still smiling, I couldn'tseem to stop. "Then I will burn it and scatter the ashes in the river. Do you understand me?"
She swallowed audibly. Her health-club tan looked a little green. She nodded, staring at me like I was the bogey man.
I think she believed I'd do it. Peachy keen. I hate to waste a really good threat — Laurell K. Hamilton

People's reaction to me is sometimes "Uch, I just don't like her. I hate how she thinks she is so great." But it's not that I think I'm so great. I just don't hate myself. I do idiotic things all the time and I say crazy stuff I regret, but I don't let everything traumatize me. And the scary thing I have noticed is that some people really feel uncomfortable around women who don't hate themselves. So that's why you need to be a little bit brave. — Mindy Kaling

They gave Sally this little blue butt-twitcher of a dress to wear. She really did look damn good in it, though. I have to admit it. And don't think she didn't know it. She kept walking ahead of me, so that I'd see how cute her little ass looked. It did look pretty cute, too. I hate to admit it. — J.D. Salinger

God, could that dopey girl dance. Buddy Singer and his stinking band was playing 'Just One of Those Things' and even they couldn't ruin it entirely. It's a swell song. I didn't try any trick stuff while we danced
I hate a guy that does a lot of show-off tricky stuff on the dance floor
but I was moving her around plenty, and she stayed with me. The funny thing is, I thought she was enjoying it, too, till all of a sudden she came out with this very dumb remark. "I and my girl friends saw Peter Lorre last night," she said. "The movie actor. In person. He was buyin' a newspaper. He's cute."
"You're lucky," I told her. "You're really lucky. You know that?" She was really a moron. But what a dancer. — J.D. Salinger

Her gaze shifted away. "I don't remember my dreams anymore." It was like she was confessing a dirty secret. And maybe it was, because even though he hated the dreams, each time he had them, he was with his parents again. Hearing their laughter. Watching them live. But when he woke up they were really gone. — Caroline Hanson

Brain: You don't want this.
Hormones: Dude, this is EXACTLY what I want.
B: No, not like this - she's wasted.
H: What's your point?
B: She won't remember this, and if she does, she'll be angry.
H: Do you see where her hand is? God, that feels good. Can't you feel that?
B: She's drunk. You can't do this. It's wrong
H: I want to do this.
B: Really? You want to go to school and say you scored with Bethany Milbury when she was so drunk she barely knew her name?
H:
H:
H: You're an asshole. I hate you.
B: She needs to eat something and drink some water. Don't let her drink anymore beer.
H:
H: Yeah, I know
B: She'll love you for taking care of her. She'll love that you respected her.
H: Five more minutes? Just five?
B: Now.
H: I can't believe you're making me do this. — Laurie Halse Anderson

Remind me again-why do you hate me so much?"
I don't hate you."
Could've fooled me."
She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."
Why?"
She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."
They must really like olives."
Oh, forget it."
Now, if she'd invented pizza-that I could understand. — Rick Riordan

Zita shrugged. "I wouldn't hold it against ya, kid. You're asking if you should choose war or love. Hate is easy, everybody does it. But most people go their entire lives without really loving. Miora's gonna tell you that you can't love her because she's zonbiri, but if it's really love . . . you won't be able to help yourself." Zita smiled and went out. — Ash Gray

Well, Lord Debonair and Lady Lethal, if we can have a minute of your time, we do have a psycho to hunt. (Allen)
(Jess glared over his shoulder at Allen, but before he could comment, Syra shot another bolt from her crossbow. Allen went flying and landed flat on his back in the snow. Syra walked over to him and stared down.)
I don't particularly like Squires and I really hate the Blood Rites. So save yourself some pain and don't speak to me again. (Syra) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Why did you want to live here? No offense, but it doesn't really seem to be your style."
He paused at her room. "I think I might ought to be offended by that. What exactly are you saying about my style?"
She paused, too, then shrugged. "I don't know. You just seem to be the kind of guy to have a man cave, not something this ... "
"Refined?"
She shook her head affirmatively.
"Well, that just shows what you know. For your information, I do like some fancy things."
"Like what? Lacy underwear?"
"On my women, yeah." He flashed that grin at her that she was learning to hate. Not for any reason other than the fact that it softened his features and made him terribly irresistible. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I really hate Nicki Minaj, but I don't know why I hate her. I just hate her face, you know? So I went and just looked at some Nicki Minaj videos so I would have a leg to stand on if I ever met someone who liked her. — Brian Posehn

The character is everything that I felt strongly against - she's superficial, materialistic, vain, amoral. She's all of these things and I realized that I hated her. How do you play someone you hate? But I found it really interesting, and it gave me a whole new insight into what my job, or my role as an actress, could be. — Emma Watson

Peter's first comment was, "I hate Mexican food." Donna said, "Peter," in a warning voice. But I added my two cents worth, "Me, too." Peter looked at me sideways, as if he didn't trust my show of solidarity with him. "Really?" I nodded. "Really." "Ted picked the restaurant," he said. "Think he did it just to be irritating?" I asked. Peter was looking directly at me, eyes a little wide. "Yeah, I do." I nodded. "Me, too." Donna had an open-mouthed astonished look on her face. "Peter, Anita." She turned to Edward. "What are we going to do with the two of them? — Laurell K. Hamilton

I want you, Anastasia," he murmurs. "I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It's very new. I need to know that we're okay. It's the only way I know how."
"My feelings for you haven't changed," I whisper.
His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, all my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the patch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire - I want to taste him there.
He's so close, but he doesn't touch me. His heat is warming my skin.
"I'm not going to touch you until you say yes," he says softly. "But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us. — E.L. James

She, for her part, was accustomed to my leavings and didn't complain too much. But she still felt about me what she'd always felt, which was what I wouldn't really feel about her until after she was gone. "I hate it when Daylight Savings Time starts while you're here," she told me while we were driving to the airport, "because it means I have an hour less with you. — Jonathan Franzen

I hate to do what everybody else is doing. Why, only last week, on Fifth Avenue and some cross streets, I noticed that every feminine citizen of these United States wore an artificial posy on her coat or gown. I came home and ripped off every one of the really lovely refrigerator blossoms that were sewn on my own bodices. — Carolyn Wells

Ysabel probably shouldn't have giggled as he pulled himself from the pool, water streaming from him in thick rivulets. But really, what did he expect? Groping her while she drove, making her all hot and distracted. The jerk. He should count himself lucky. Most guys would've ended up splattered on the sidewalk. Maybe she didn't hate him after all.
Hair plastered to his skull, dripping like a big sea monster, he glowered at her. "You are an evil witch."
Fluffing her hair she smiled. "Why thank you. I try my best. — Eve Langlais

What are you doing?" she finally asked. "Just thinking about my day. What are you doing?" "Trying to find Jace. Have you seen her?" "Trying to find her? Why? Is it because she's Albanian?" "I'm trying to ... wait ... what?" "You hate her because she's Albanian?" "I don't hate - " "Is it just Albanians you hate, or is it all East Europeans?" "What are you talking about?" "Wow. I had no idea you were like this." Another sister-Crow showed up. "Like what?" "Rachel hates Eastern Europeans." "I do not!" "So you hate all Europeans? Is that what you're saying?" "No!" "My God, Rachel." The other sister-Crow shook her head, disgust on her face as she walked off. "I'm really disappointed in you." "Wait ... " Rachel glared down at Annalisa. "Jesus Christ." "So you hate the Christian God, too? — Shelly Laurenston

I nod and tap my fingers against my knees. "What to do with a girlfriend while I work my hours at the TOG. Hmm ... Can I really do this? Will I be able to pull it off? Will she be able to read at the snack bar tables without losing her mind," I mumble.
"Do you always talk to yourself?"
"Yes. Bad habit. Does it bother you?" I walk back over to her side of the small stage.
"No. It's interesting. I hate people knowing my thoughts. But yours just fall out of your head so easily." She shrugs.
"I never thought of it like that ... but you're my girlfriend now ... so who cares if you know what I think?"
Her cheeks turn pink, and I laugh. — Anne Eliot

Imagine if I cannot stand someone and every day he is here in my face, then I cannot work. Then, the whole time, I am thinking "I hate him, I hate him." But if I love him or I love her, then I can do anything, then I am comfortable. That's why it's so important to be surrounded by people that you really like. — Marjane Satrapi

On my floor, there were fifteen first years and ten sophomores. It was quickly discovered that most of the first years on my floor were still involved in high school relationships. It wasn't difficult to figure out who the ten were, as they (okay, by "they" I really mean "we" but I hate to admit to this type of behavior) often began sentences with the phrase, "My boyfriend/girlfriend . . ." As in "My boyfriend loves Coldplay, too!" Or "My boyfriend has a sweater like that, too!" Or "My boyfriend eats and sleeps and excretes waste, too!" Since no upperclassman would ever, ever, ever put a confining label like "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" on the person she/he was hooking up with on a semiregular basis, it was obvious that anyone making such a bold declaration of commitment was referring to a youthful union forged in the halls of her/his former high school. The — Megan McCafferty

So really, it was just as well that Godmother had caught up to me, in spite of my best efforts to avoid her. I'd hate to find out that the universe really wasn't conspiring against me. It would jerk the rug out from under my persecution complex. -Harry — Jim Butcher

She started out of the kitchen, then stopped and put her hand on my shoulder, bending down to kiss me gently on the forehead. She smelled like vanilla and Joy perfume, and suddenly I felt like I might start crying again. "You really scared me, Caitlin," she said, smiling as she brushed her fingers through my hair. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you." I could tell her, I told myself. I could tell her right now and fix this. I could say that he hits me and I hate cheerleading and I miss Cass but I know why she left and I wish I could make everything better but I can't, I can't, I can't even tell you where it hurts, not now. "Don't worry," I said instead, as she ruffled my hair and walked away, my mother, to do what she did best, to take care of me. "I'm fine. — Sarah Dessen

Questioner: Why do we love our mothers so much? KRISHNAMURTI: Do you love your mother if you hate your father? Listen carefully. When you love somebody very much, do you exclude others from that love? If you really love your mother, don't you also love your father, your aunt, your neighbour, your servant? Don't you have the feeling of love first, and then the love of someone in particular? When you say, "I love my mother very much," are you not being considerate of her? Can you then give her a lot of meaningless trouble? And if you are considerate of your mother, are you not also considerate of your brother, your sister, your neighbour? Otherwise you don't really love your mother; it is just a word, a convenience. — Jiddu Krishnamurti

It's too soon, too fast. We don't even know each other."
"Says who?" Ethan demanded. "Who decides how long it should take? Who makes the rules?"
Erica shrugged because she really didn't know it just seemed like common sense.
He put his index finger under her chin and swept his thumb just under her lower lip. "I do know you." He whispered. "I know you love chocolate and hate roses. I know you are kind and compassionate and generous. I know you feed the homeless and the stray cat that lives behind your apartment. I know you are a hopeless romantic. You are fiercely loyal." His eyes took on a mischievous glint. "I know you are ticklish; I know what makes you moan; I know what makes you squirm." He kissed her softly. "I know when I am with you I don't want to be anywhere else." He kissed her again and this time she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Their tongues tangled in a duel that left her breathless. — Melissa Hale

Is the meeting over?" Grace asked. "Should I clean up?" Charlie knew exactly what was going to happen. "He's going to say he doesn't want a donut, but he totally does. Save him three. He'll eat them before lunch and then pretend he didn't. Oh, and he likes his coffee really black, like almost espresso like." Grace stopped. "Seriously? I've been making it medium." "He likes really dark roast." Another swat hit her ass. "I hate everything. — Lexi Blake

I really hate it when you're right," she said with a reluctant smile.
He touched the side of her face. "You were a match for me. I was always right about that. — Elizabeth Camden

Like most guys, I had bought into the stereotype that all feminists were white, lesbian, unattractive male bashers who hated all men. But after reading the work of these black feminists, I realized that this was far from the truth. After digging into their work, I came to really respect the intelligence, courage and honesty of these women.
Feminists did not hate men. In fact, they loved men. But just as my father had silenced my mother during their arguments to avoid hearing her gripes, men silenced feminists by belittling them in order to dodge hearing the truth about who we are. — Byron Hurt

Jayden went for my fries, ignoring Anna's narrowed gaze. "Thanks, babe."
"You two know each other?" Jo gestured between Jayden and me with her fork.
Before I could nod, he dropped an arm over my shoulders. "She's my bae."
I grinned.
"Bae?" Keira sighed. "I hate that word. Do you know what it really means?"
"Poop," I answered without thinking. "In Danish."
My eyes widened. Holy crap. I'd spoken without hesitation at lunch! Holy crap! No one recognized my internal freak-out over it, but I couldn't believe it. I sat there and spoke with no problem.
I needed to give myself a cookie.
Anna giggled. "Oh, man. I know. I know. Still think it's a cute word."
Across from her, Keira rolled her eyes. "It literally means shit."
"Mallory is the shit, though. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Right when 'High School Musical' was taking off, one of my little cousins called and was really excited to tell me there was a huge 'I Hate Zac Efron' club at her school. I'm sure they're doing great. More power to them. — Zac Efron

My bottom lip starts to quiver, but I keep going. "I fight every day, and too many times it's just not enough and the fear wins. I'm so fucking weak and everything is so fucking intense and sometimes I really hate it." I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands as the tears pour out of me. I didn't mean to say all that. I feel exposed. Tears fill her eyes, too. "Can I hug you?" I nod, unable to speak. She walks around the table and hugs me. — Jen Wilde

You should climb around inside my brain, Dan. It's like this dark room surrounded by quicksand." "I know what you mean," her brother said quietly. "I hate being in my brain sometimes. I have to get out." "What do you do?" Amy asked. Dan shrugged "I go to other places. My toes. My shoulders. But mostly here." He tapped his chest and immediately reddened. "I know. It's stupid." "Not really," Amy said. "I wish I could do that, too. — Peter Lerangis

I hate to break it to you," he said, "but this time a pair of sunglasses isn't going to cut it. People are probably going to know you've been crying."
"I thought you were dead," she told him, her voice muffled, her face buried in his shirt. "When those bullets hit you, I thought . . . I thought . . ."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said, stroking her hair. His heart was in his throat. Was it possible she really cared that much? "I know you pretty well by now, Al. You thought, 'Oh, fuck, the dumb son of a bitch is dead. Now who are they going to send to annoy the crap out of me? — Suzanne Brockmann

Lennie rolled off the bunk and stood up, and the two of them started for the door. Just as they reached it, Curley bounced in.
"You seen a girl around here?" he demanded angrily.
George said coldly, "'Bout half an hour ago maybe."
"Well, what the hell was she doin'?"
George stood still, watching the angry little man. He said insultingly, "She said
she was lookin' for you."
Curley seemed really to see George for the first time. His eyes flashed over George, took in his height, measured his reach, looked at his trim middle. "Well, which way'd she go?" he demanded at last.
"I dunno," said George. "I didn't watch her go."
Curley scowled at him, and turning, hurried out the door.
George said, "Ya know, Lennie, I'm scared I'm gonna tangle with that bastard myself. I hate his guts. Jesus Christ! Come on. There won't be a damn thing left to eat. — John Steinbeck

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

Looking into his eyes she pleaded, "Don't hurt me like that again, Greg, please. I couldn't bear the way you looked at me like you hated me."She sobbed.
He grasped her face in his hands. "I could never hate you. It's me that I hate. I'll never,ever be so stupid again, I promise. I'm such an idiot. I care about you so much. I would never really want to hurt you, ever. I just don't know what else to do Mallory...I...I love you so much...I don't care anymore if it's wrong...All I care about is you. If friends are what we are then that's what we are. I'll get used to it, I promise I will." He hugged her again, "I can't be without you in my life. I said some terrible things.Can you forgive me? — Lisa J. Hobman

Though we were forbidden to speak anything but French, the teacher would occasionally use us to practice any of her five fluent languages.
"I hate you," she said to me one afternoon. Her English was flawless. "I really, really hate you." Call me sensitive, but I couldn't help taking it personally. — David Sedaris

I hate maps.'
'Really?' She sounded stunned, and maybe just a little bit delighted by his admission. 'Why?'
He told her the truth. 'I haven't the talent for reading them.'
'And you, a highwayman.'
'What has that to do with it?'
'Don't you need to know where you're going?'
'Not nearly so much as I need to know where I've been ... There are certain areas of the country - possibly all of Kent, to be honest - it is best that I avoid.'
'This is one of those moments,' she said, blinking several times in rapid succession, 'when I am not quite certain if you are being serious.'
'Oh, very much so,' he told her, almost cheerfully. 'Except perhaps for the bit about Kent ... I might have been understating.'
'Understating,' she echoed.
'There's a reason I avoid the South.'
'Good heavens. — Julia Quinn

Tell me," she finally whispered, "is it fun for you to torture me? ... I should really hate you. Ever since we have known each other, you have given me nothing but suffering ... " Her voice trembled, she leaned toward me, and lowered her head onto my breast.
"Perhaps," I thought, "this is exactly why you loved me: joys are forgotten, but sadness, never ... — Mikhail Lermontov

I've got to get Brittany alone if I'm gonna have any chance of saving face and saving my Honda. Does her freakout session mean she really doesn't hate me? I've never seen that girl do anything not scripted or 100 percent intentional. She's a robot. Or so I thought. She's always looked and acted like a princess on camera every time I've seen her. Who knew it'd be my bloody arm that would crack her.
I look over at Brittany. She's focused on my arm and Miss Koto's ministrations. I wish we were back in the library. I could swear back there she was thinking about getting it on with me.
I'm sporting la tengo dura right here in front of Miss Koto just thinking about it. Gracias a Dios the nurse walks over to the medicine cabinet. Where's a large chem book when you need one? — Simone Elkeles

I don't hate you," I tell her. And I honestly don't. Because love can't be faked when magic's involved. Ivy didn't push me out of the way just to gain a soul. She didn't force anything. It was all her choice to save and love me.
From her wide eyes, she can't believe what I've said. "Rea-really?"
"Yeah." I grin despite the waterworks. "Because I know you love me. Just like I love you."
"I do," whispers Ivy. A single tear escapes her eye. "I love you, Rylan. And thank you for letting me hear that...once in my lifetime." — Colleen Boyd

The only time I felt I was different was when one of my friends said, 'I hate reading' and I stared at her like, 'What kind of an alien creature are you?!' Because it was so incomprehensible to me that someone could dislike reading! That really started my desire to help other children love reading and writing. — Adora Svitak

Scarlett doesn't want to go to the hospital. Not surprising, really, since we have to come up with an elaborate story about how we all got so severely wounded.
"Dogfight. We broke one up," my sister answers for us as a horrified emergency room receptionist looks at Scarlett's raw, bleeding shoulders.
"Dogs dislike us." Silas shrugs, clutching the wound on his chest. He glances down at the burn wounds on my legs. I think they might scar, but it's hard to say. The receptionist speaks into a walkie-talkie, then lets her eyes travel from the fresh wounds to the ancient scars on Scarlett's body.
"Dogs pretty much hate me," Scarlett says testily. The poor receptionist looks relieved when the ER doctors appear and usher us down the hall. — Jackson Pearce

Theodore," Ben says, interrupting him. " You seem like a... nice guy."
"Thanks," Theodore says, smiling.
"Let me finish," Ben says, holding up a finder in warning. "Because you're about to hate me. I lied. I'm not writing a paper." He points at Glenn. "This guy told me earlier today where to show up tonight so that I could find the girl I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with. And I'm sorry, but that girl just so happens to be your date. And I'm in love with her. Like, really in love with her. Crippling, debilitating, paralyzing love. So please accept my sincerest apologies, because she's coming home with me tonight. I hope. I pray." Ben shoots me an endearing look. "Please ? Otherwise this speech will make me look like a complete fool and that won't be good when we tell our grandkids about this. — Colleen Hoover

This ain't right, you know. She's the one who ought to rule, fair enough. And you used magic to help her this far, and that's all right. But it stops right here. It's up to her what happens next. You can't make things right by magic. You can only stop making them wrong."
Mrs. Gogol pulled herself up to her full, impressive height. "Who's you to say what I can and can't do here?"
"We're her godmothers," said Granny.
"That's right," said Nanny Ogg.
"We've got a wand, too," said Magrat.
"But you hate godmothers, Mistress Weatherwax," said Mrs. Gogol.
"We're the other kind," said Granny. "We're the kind that gives people what they know they really need, not what we think they ought to want. — Terry Pratchett

You really are a lot like my brother. You know that?" "Gah, I hope he's not as attracted to you as I am. 'Cause that's just sick." She rolled her eyes at him. "You're awful." He didn't argue as he pushed open the window so that Vik could join them. Vik landed on the sill, turned into his bot form and slammed the window closed. "I hate this planet. How long we got to stay?" "Hopefully not long." "Good, 'cause I'm missing my toaster and need to get out of here." Syn held his hands up. "I'm not even going to go there."
-Shahara, Syn, & Vik — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I became the person people don't want to tell they're pregnant. I hate that. A friend told me her happy, fantastic news, and just a second later she burst out crying, afraid for how this would make me feel. I hate that. I work really hard to arrange my face in such a way that approximates uncomplicated glee. And I am happy for them, or course. But sometimes just after the happiness is the desperation. Some days are easier than others. — Shauna Niequist

You couldn't just leave her?"
"No," he says. "She's going through some shit right now. I'm just trying to be there for her. As a friend. That's it!"
"Gosh, she really knows how to work you, Peter!"
"It's not like that."
"It's always like that. She pulls the strings and you just ... " I dangle my arms and head like a marionette doll.
Peter frowns. "That was mean."
"Well, I feel mean right now. So watch out."
"You're not mean, though. Not usually."
"Why can't you just tell me? You know I won't tell anyone. I really want to understand it, Peter."
"Because it's not for me to say. Don't try to make me tell you, because I can't."
"She's just doing this to manipulate you. It's what she does." I hear the jealousy in my voice, and I hate it, I hate it. This isn't me. — Jenny Han

Weeper "I hate to lose something," then she bent her head, "even a dime, I wish I was dead. I can't explain it. No more to be said. 'Cept I hate to lose something. "I lost a doll once and cried for a week. She could open her eyes, and do all but speak. I believe she was took, by some doll-snatching sneak. I tell you, I hate to lose something. "A watch of mine once, got up and walked away. It had twelve numbers on it and for the time of day. I'll never forget it and all I can say Is I really hate to lose something. "Now if I felt that way 'bout a watch and a toy, What you think I feel 'bout my lover-boy? I ain't threatening you, madam, but he is my evening's joy. And I mean I really hate to lose something. — Maya Angelou

There's an honesty to the wolf world that is liberating. There's no diplomacy, no decorum. You tell your enemy you hate him; you show your admiration by confessing the truth. That directness doesn't work with humans, who are masters of subterfuge. Does this dress make me look fat? Do you really love me? Did you miss me? When a person asks this, she doesn't want to know the real answer. She wants you to lie to her. After two years of living with wolves, I had forgotten how many lies it takes to build a relationship. — Jodi Picoult

So since we've clearly created a monster, which of us is Dr. Frankenstein, and who gets to be Igor?" I asked, hoping to inject a little levity.
"I'm definitely the doctor. He had the nicer ass."
"I hate to be a bubble burster, but you're a disembodied AI; you don't have an ass."
"I have since I met you."
"Aw. And you do have quite a mainframe on you." I realized after saying it how weird that was, since technically her mainframe was my mainframe, and I really didn't want to dwell on how incestuous that was. "But what if I'm not ready to be a father?"
"Well, you're already a bother, so all you'd really need to do is give an F."
"That was low, and given how terrible my standards are, you should recognize what kind of an insult that really is."
"Don't be a jerk. It's unbecoming."
"Well, apparently I'm becoming a jerk. Were you expecting a pumpkin? — Nicolas Wilson

I am Outcast."
"The kids behind me laugh so loud I know they're laughing about me. I can't help myself. I turn around. It's Rachel, surrounded by a bunch of kids wearing clothes that most definitely did not come from the EastSide Mall. Rachel Bruin, my ex-best friend. She stares at something above my left ear. Words climb up my throat. This was the girl who suffered through Brownies with me, who taught me how to swim, who understood about my parents, who didn't make fun of my bedroom. If there is anyone in the entire galaxy I am dying to tell what really happened, it's Rachel. My throat burns."
"Her eyes meet mine for a second. "I hate you," she mouths silently. — Laurie Halse Anderson