I hate cats." Death's face became a little stiffer, if that were possible. The blue glow in his eye sockets flickered red for an instant. "I SEE," he said. The tone suggested that death was too good for cat haters.
Students, eh? Love 'em or hate 'em, you can't hit them with a shovel!
Soon to come in licorice, orange, cinnamon, and banana, but not strawberry, because I hate strawberries.
But that was just it - hate was exactly the right word. Hate is a force of attraction. Hate is just love with its back turned.
I was just a kid then. But I won't forget. Nor will others. There's lots of people with reason to hate the Church.
Up until now I'd always though RSI meant 'I hate my damn job'.
There are some people who hate my guts. But that goes with the territory.
By the time you write the last page you have done half the book. The other half tends to get done in about five weeks; I do several drafts, very, very furiously rewriting. I literally do more or less nothing else and I stick with it and go through it and I begin to hate it.
The singers all loathe the sight of one another, the chorus despises the singers, they both hate the orchestra, and everyone fears the conductor; the staff on one prompt side won't talk to the staff on the opposite prompt side, the dancers are all crazed from hunger in any case.
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