He hated Gungadhura; and, not knowing which the English would choose for his successor, Gungadhura or another man, he told no one, making only hints to my mother on his death-bed and saying that if I, his daughter, ever developed brains enough to learn the secret of the treasure, then I might also have wit enough to win the throne and all would be well." "And you discovered it?
That, however, I believed that in England, as everywhere else, a mixture of good and bad qualities was to be found; but which prevailed, it would be presumption in me, from my position, to decide. But I did not doubt that if we cordially hated the English they returned us the compliment with interest, and, therefore, the contest with them would be a severe one.
But there was something about the man that repelled me, and I hated meeting his gaze. The noise of the train caused us presently to relapse into silence, and, picking up my newspaper, I tried to read. My thoughts were too deeply engrossed, however, to allow me to focus my attention on the printed page.
It is urged by advocates of this doctrine, quite truly, that all political events are brought about by minorities, since the majority are indifferent to politics. But there is a difference between a minority in which the indifferent acquiesce, and a minority so hated as to startle the indifferent into belated action.
I had to study them in my own room at night, so as to make him think I was well educated and shared his tastes; but I did not; no," she cried, with a stamp of her foot, "I hated his tastes! Aristotle and Plato, yes, and Shakespeare dull to the last degree, but I liked him: he was so handsome, so thoughtful, such a gentleman.
For the monkish chronicler was, we know, the Father of Lies, and so indeed in a measure are all historians and biographers, since they cannot see into hearts and motives or know all the circumstances of the case. And in this case they were painting the picture of their hated enemy and no doubt were not sparing in the use of the black pigment.
Lans, but the morning I saw him first I was standing right there" she pointed to the tree by the road where she had listened to Sandy's bird call "and he came along, and when I knew that that big man was my Sandy that went all raggedy down The Way years before I expect I hated him! It seemed like he had stolen the nice boy, eaten him up and swallowed him! But no one hates Sandy.
And it was he who more than any one single force brought the fulfilment of his prophecy of a nation reunited and all free. He hated slavery. "If slavery is not wrong," he said, "nothing is wrong." But he wanted to get rid of it without injustice to those to whom it was an inherited, if cherished, institution.
Yet Isabella glories in the fact that she was faithful and true to her master; she says, 'It made me true to my God'-meaning, that it helped to form in her a character that loved truth, and hated a lie, and had saved her from the bitter pains and fears that are sure to follow in the wake of insincerity and hypocrisy.
On these occasions you could not help admiring Joe, even if you hated him. When a man is doing his own job well, it is impossible not to admire him. And Joe did his job well, superlatively well. He was everywhere. Where others trotted, he sprang. Where others raised their voices, he yelled. Where others were in two places at once, he was in three and moving towards a fourth.