Henry Rollins Quotes

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

Nothing wrong with changing your mind. That's a very unwaffling thing to say: "Nothing wrong..." Who am I to say that there's nothing wrong with it? Maybe something is wrong with changing your mind. Anyway, love is very, very difficult. I love. But probably because I hate myself on some deep, sick level, it makes loving difficult. But I do try.

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.

There's not much difference between love and hate.

Motherhood is not only something very pure and very full of love, it can be full of dark things, too.

I always believed there's a fine line between love and hate.

Love should be simple, but it's not. Hate should be hard, but it's easy.

Love! Hate! Is there no third?

I'm a Gemini, so I'm very dual. I love something and I hate it at the same time, so that probably comes out in the lyrics.

When I love most, love is disguised. In hate; and when hate is surprised, in love, then I hate most.

But love is different for every person. For some it's hate, for some it's joy, for some it's fear, for some it's jealousy, for some it's torture, for some it's peace. For some it's everything.

That's the way man is, cher monsieur. He has two faces: he can't love without self-love.

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

In that shrinking moment he discovered that he had never hated anyone until now. It was a feeling as pure as love, but dispassionate and icily rational.

The human heart is a strange vessel. Love and hatred can exist side by side.

Love is the world's infinite mutability; lies, hatred, murder even, are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose smelling faintly of blood.

What makes us want to know the worst? Is it that we tire of preferring to know the best? Does curiosity always hurdle self-interest? Or is it, more simply, that wanting to know the worst is love's favorite perversion.

But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our love.

You are the drop,and the ocean you are kindness,you are anger, you are sweetness,you are poison. Do not make me more disheartened. you are the chamber of the sun, you are the abode of venus, you are the garden of all hope. Oh, Beloved, let me enter.

We strive as hard to hide our hearts from ourselves as from others, and always with more success; for in deciding upon our own case we are both judge, jury, and executioner, and where sophistry cannot overcome the first, or flattery the second, self-love is always ready to defeat the sentence by bribing the third.

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.

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.

Behind my carefully buttoned collar is my nakedness, the struggle to find clean clothes, food, meaning, and money. Behind sex is rage, behind anger is love, behind this moment is silence, years of silence.

If one judges love according to the greatest part of the effects it produces, it would appear to resemble rather hatred than kindness.