“I hate polite conversation. I hate it when people stand around and go, 'Hi, how are you?' I hate words that don't have any reason or meaning. Also I hate it when people smoke in elevators and closed in places. It's just so rude.”

“Do you hate people?”

“I don't hate them… I just feel better when they're not around.”

“I hate when people say that they have something to tell you and they don't just say it.”

“I don't understand my feelings. I really don't. I don't understand how I could hate you so much after so much time. How, no matter how much I'd like to not hate you, I hate you even more. It grows.”

“I'm all done with hating you. It's all washed out of me. I hate people hard, but I don't hate them very long.”

“I hate rarely, though when I hate, I hate murderously.”

“Some people are like "Oh, I hate guitars." How can you hate a guitar? It makes no sense. It's just an instrument.”

“I hate the uneducated and the ignorant. I hate the pompous and the phoney. I hate the jealous and the resentful. I hate the crabbed and mean and the petty. I hate all ordinary dull little people who aren't ashamed of being dull and little.”

“I also hate people to ask cheerfully how you are when they know you're feeling like hell and expect you to say "fine”

“Already Roland feels his limbs starting to go numb. He swallows hard.
"I hate this. I hate you. I hate all of you."
"I understand.”