Dawn Richard Quotes

There never was a war that was not inward.

I love you. I love you, but I’m turning to my verses and my heart is closing like a fist.

I love you. And I want you, too. But. However. Unfortunately...

I think I'm drawn to characters with complexity or who are under duress in some way and have some conflict going on.

As much as I love boxing, I hate it. And as much as I hate it, I love it.

I love the attention and I hate the attention, you know? It's not always good for your soul.

For me, what really excites me about my characters and what pushes their core is the kind of dark, sad side of life.

All that peace, man, if felt so good it hurt. I want to hurt it back.

I hate you." I love you." You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." I'm trying not to be.

She was owner and captive, both, of a bitterly divided heart.

She looked at his young face, so full of concern and tenderness; and she remembered why she had run away from everyone else and sought solitude here. She yearned to kiss him, and she saw the answering longing in his eyes. Every fiber of her body told her to throw herself into his arms, but she knew what she had to do. She wanted to say, I love you like a thunderstorm, like a lion, like a helpless rage; but instead she said: "I think I'm going to marry Alfred.

You make me miserable. You really do, I want you to know that. Much as I love you, much as I need you, much as I can't exist without you, you make me miserable.

But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.

You had to hate the Colonel a whole lot to keep from loving him.

Half of my heart’s got a grip on the situation, half of my heart takes time.

She was struggling against a current that brought her inside herself.

His parting shot to me had been, "I don't want to love someone who is more at home with the monsters than I am." What do you say to that? What can you say? Damned if I know. They say love conquers everything. They lie.

She was very near hating him now; yet the sound of his voice, the way the light fell on his thin, dark hair, the way he sat and moved and wore his clothes—she was conscious that even these trivial things were inwoven with her deepest life.

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.

I argue with myself, get mad at myself, throw myself around the room and then apologize to myself.

As long as you draw breath anywhere -here or ten thousands miles from here- I will love you. I can't help loving you, so I choose to hate you...to make my love bearable.

I seem to remember even from when I was very young that when you loved someone you also hated them for making you love them, since loving someone is so incredibly humiliating.

Last time I saw you, I said that it hurt too much to love you. But I was wrong about that. The truth is it hurts too much not to love you.