A Quote by Greg Gutfeld

The joy of hate reflects people who get off pretending to hate something, or hate you, in order to score political points. I call them the 'tolerati' - you know, a group of people who claim to be tolerant, except when they run into someone who disagrees with them.
I will tell you what to hate. Hate hypocrisy, hate cant, hate indolence, oppression, injustice; hate Pharisaism; hate them as Christ hated them with a deep, living, godlike hatred.
The left's propulsion is hate, and they have to have an outlet for the hate. They hate so much. They hate many elements of America. They hate people that don't think the way they do. It's not just that they disagree, they hate, and this energy requires action. People on the right, they don't hate anybody. We want everybody to get along, when you get right down to it. We're Rodney King types, actually.
They are the hate group. The Democrat Party, that's their fuel. That's what energizes them is their hate. And for them to sit here and act like they're the most compassionate and tolerant and peaceful and understanding is just a bunch of hogwash. The American people that voted for Donald Trump are hated. The Republican Party is hated. The alternative conservative media is hated.
I wish that I was dead. Oh, they'll be sorry then. I hate them and I'll kill myself tomorrow. I want to die. I hate them, hate them. Hate.
It's outrageous to me when I see people hate on someone because of their sexuality. I hate the intolerance. I hate the judgment. I hate it so much.
I can't take it anymore. The waiting. The wanting. Something inside me snaps. I hate myself. I hate that I have to deal with this. I hate my life. And I hate how I can't count on anyone to be completely there when I need them, exactly the way I need them to be.
Why should I hate someone on the basis of their religion, when I can take a little time to get to know them and hate them for a myriad of real reasons.
I hate negativity. I hate people who say the phrase 'I hate'. I really don't like the word 'hate.' Dislike, frightened of, terrified of, or yukky - but not 'hate.'
There is no hate without fear. Hate is crystallized fear, fear's dividend, fear objectivized. We hate what we fear and so where hate is, fear is lurking. Thus we hate what threatens our person, our liberty, our privacy, our income, our popularity, our vanity and our dreams and plans for ourselves. If we can isolate this element in what we hate we may be able to cease from hating... Hate is the consequence of fear; we fear something before we hate; a child who fears noises becomes the man who hates them.
Now, personally, I am baffled by the concept of racial prejudice. Why hate someone based on the color of their skin when, if you take the time to get to know them as a human being, you can find so many other things to hate them for?
I hate women, hate them generally, not in particular but in an abstract way. I hate them because one never really learns anything about them. They are inscrutable.
Love me or hate me, it's one or the other. Always has been. Hate my game, my swagger. Hate my fadeaway, my hunger. Hate that I'm a veteran. A champion. Hate that. Hate it with all your heart. And hate that I'm loved, for the exact same reasons.
Misanthropy is born, I think, out of an almost oppressive sense of loneliness, a conviction that there's no one on earth who understands you. I don't think misanthropes hate people: They hate that people hate them.
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
Do you think it makes people nasty to be loved? You know it doesn’t! Then why should it make them nice to be loathed? While you’re being persecuted, you hate what’s happening to you, you hate the people who are making it happen; you’re in a world of hate. Why, you wouldn’t recognize love if you met it! You’d suspect love! You’d think there was something behind it—some motive—some trick.
I hate vacations. I hate them. I have no fun on them. I get nothing done. People sit and relax, but I don't want to relax. I want to see something.
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