“Some book reviewer whose name I forget recently called me a 'vicious misanthrope' . . . or maybe it was a 'cynical misanthrope'. . . but either way, he (or she) was right; and what got me this way was politics.”
“Why do they call me misanthrope? Because They hate me, not I them.”
“Samuel: What's a misanthrope? Two Bob: A misanthrope is a bugger who hates every other bugger. Samuel: Are we misanthropes? Arthur: Lord no! We're family. ”
“Christmas time! That man must be a misanthrope indeed, in whose breast something like a jovial feeling is not roused— in whose mind some pleasant associations are not awakened— by the recurrence of Christmas.”
“You call me a misanthrope because I avoid society. You err; I love society. Yet in order not to hate people, I must avoid their company.”
“Maybe he was real. Maybe I'd made him up. Either way, he didn't think I needed him anymore. Maybe he was right.”