I hate feeling hate but feeling nothing feels worse.
Ir grūti kādu visu mūžu ienīst, un tad piepeši… nekā, vairs pilnīgi nekā.
But, in the end, a kiss is just a kiss; I have no time for love, or seasoned lips.
Never so sure our rapture to createAs when it touch’d the brink of all we hate.
Just tell yourself a story that’ll satisfy you and pretend he told it.