Charles Dickens Quotes

One of the hardest tasks is to extract continually from one's soul an almost inexhaustible ill will.

My talent was the uncompromising ability to feel spite.

Hatred, revenge, bitterness - these are negative emotions. The person harbouring those emotions suffers more.

Spite is never lonely; envy always tags along.

Yeah, I have animosity, a chip on my shoulder. But I love, too.

Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

Hatred, in the course of time, kills the unhappy wretch who delights in nursing it in his bosom.

Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.

I would never do anything just for spite.

There is no shame like poor shame. It can make you warm and charming, bitter and resentful, all at once.

It is the suffering of ambivalence: the murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves, and blissful gratification and tenderness

If I wanted to punish an enemy, it should be by fastening on him the trouble of constantly hating somebody.

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

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.

One can fall in love and still hate.

Resentment is a union of sorrow with malignity; a combination of a passion which all endeavor to avoid with a passion which all concur to detest.

I suppose I could let bygones be bygones, forgive and forget, yadda yadda. But where's the fun in that? These pretty little bitches got everything I ever wanted, and now I'm going to make sure they get exactly what they deserve. Does that make me sound awful? Sorry, but as every pretty little liar knows, sometimes the truth's ugly-and it always hurts. I'll be watching.... Mwah! -A

I am astonished, disappointed, pleased with myself. I am distressed, depressed, rapturous. I am all these things at once and cannot add up the sum.

I'm filled with a new joy mixed with old grief.

I warn you all, hatred is finding fertile soil within me. And in your compassion, in your every good intention, you nurture it.

My children cause me the most exquisite suffering of which I have any experience. It is the suffering of ambivalence: the murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves, and blissful gratification and tenderness. Sometimes I seem to myself, in my feelings toward these tiny guiltless beings, a monster of selfishness and intolerance.

Hatred is active displeasure, envy passive. We need not wonder that envy turns to soon to hatred.

The angry man wishes the object of his anger to suffer in return; hatred wishes its object not to exist.

Whom they have injured they also hate.

Hatred, jealousy, and fear hinder peace of mind. When you're angry or unforgiving, for example, your mental suffering is constant. It is better to forgive than to spoil your peace of mind with ill feelings.