Women usually love what they buy, yet hate two-thirds of what is in their closets.
Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones.
Love looks forward, hate looks back, anxiety has eyes all over its head.
If you hate your lot but wouldn't trade it, it's not your lot you hate.
The neurotic lies awake at night, composing letters to those he hates. He seldom thinks of dropping a line to those he loves.
Women go to beauty parlors for the unmussed look men hate.
Neurotic quarrels always have the same theme-song: Hate me and get it over with.
I'm afraid to win, and afraid to lose; I hate a draw and can't stop competing; otherwise I'm fine.
The neurotic usually obeys his own Golden Rule: Hate thy neighbor as thyself.
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