Lucy Maud Montgomery Quotes

I loved her. I still love her, though I curse her in my sleep, so nearly one are love and hate, the two most powerful and devasting emotions that control man, nations, life.

All the souls to explore! - It's not so necessary to love, really, as it is to settle something deep with all of those who really matter. Love and hate are the same things, differently sifted through personal... pride, or what have you... personal pride or even just personal-ness.

Opera tells stories that all ages can relate to: love, death, revenge, etc.

It's lovely. I hate it.

So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

People always tell me either A. you love him. B. you hate him. My usual answer? C. All of the above.

She never liked me much, but she sure loved me

Can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?

You couldn’t truly love anything if you didn’t hate at least something. Indeed, perhaps you couldn’t truly love anything if you didn’t hate almost everything.

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

We don't stop loving people just because we hate them, but we don't stop hating them either.

Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing. And a ridiculous thing, too.

Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.

it is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom.

There are things that make us choose, on certain days, on certain nights, the opposite of love, in all its variations. But I want to acknowledge that with love and hate it's not simply one or the other. It's at least two, three, four, five different emotions existing at once, side by side, a broad spectrum of things alive.

Why do I doubt her? Perhaps she is just very sensitive, and hypersensitive people are false when others doubt them; they waver. And one thinks them insincere. Yet I want to believe her. At the same time it does not seem so very important that she should love me. It is not her role. I am so filled with my love of her. And at the same time I feel that I am dying. Our love would be death. The embrace of imaginings.

I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but for some reason I don’t understand, I actually like you…most of the time. (Simone) Well, you also love Jesse. Obviously your taste in men leaves a lot to be desired. (Xypher)

Love and hate are cruel, only liking is kind

My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.

I hate Valentine's Day. I think every day should be a day of romance. Then, on Valentine's Day, you should get to tell whoever you hate that you cannot stand them. There would be one day of hating, and 364 days of love.

Life is probably a tangle of love and hate permanently knotted together.

I think sometimes it's hard to know what you feel, or to know what's real and what's not, because love or hate or any feeling is a belief. You can say you hate someone, but you don't truly know them.

Did I hate him, then? Indeed, I believe so. A love like that can grow to be nine-tenths hatred and still call itself love.

And it's wrong of you to think that love leaves room for nothing else. It's possible to love something and still condescend to it.