Rick Riordan Quotes

Not only are love and hate such closely related emotions, but it's a lot easier to hate someone you've cared about than someone you never have.

Hatreds are the cinders of affection.

Stronger than lover's love is lover's hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.

I hate you!” I screamed at Fang. Tucking my wings in, I aimed downward, diving toward the ground at more than two hundred miles an hour. “No you dooonnn’t!” Fang’s voice spiraled away into nothingness, far above me. Inside my head, almost drowned out by the roar of wind rushing by my ears, I heard the Voice make a tsking sound. You guys are crazy about each other, it said.

Men hate more steadily than they love.

He hadn't loved me well in the end, but he'd loved me well when it mattered.

We can always hate that which we loved, and with a fire as great as our love once was.

Oh, I have loved him too much to feel no hate for him.

If a man had begun to hate an object of his love, so that love is thoroughly destroyed, he will, causes being equal, regard it with more hatred than if he had never loved it, and his hatred will be in proportion to the strength of his former love.

And where love ends, hate begins

At the beginning of a love affair, not even the neurotic is neurotic.

A woman findeth in her last lover much of her first love; but a man seeth his next-to-the-last love, alway.

Jeez, Claire. If I didn't love you, you'd scare me.

Whereas scoundrels become reconciled after knifing one another, lovers break up irrevocably over a mere glance or word.

Hatred is keener than friendship, less keen than love.

Hot hate is twin brother to hot love.

Love is a wave building to a crescendo. Ride if you will, ride it with me.

Love is the burning point of life, and since all life is sorrowful, so is love. The stronger the love, the more the pain. Love itself is pain, you might say -the pain of being truly alive.

If jealousy was the vindaloo of love, I'd imagined her tongue burning, and such a fire forcing her to spill her truth.

Remember how you made me crazy, remember how I made you scream.

Love is mainly an affair of short spasms. If these spasms disappoint us, love dies. It is very seldom that it weathers the experience and becomes friendship.

That's all it takes, one drop of fear to curdle love into hate.

Love's a loaded gun and it shoots to kill.

Love is a great glue, but there is no cement like mutual hate.

The language of love letters is the same as suicide notes.