“Some of her self-hatred had oozed out with the blood.”
“My self-destructive behaviour and self-hatred had hit an all-time high.”
“It was always a relief when she came home to him. Like water or food. Like music or that moment when you cut yourself with a knife and squeeze the skin and no blood oozes out.”
“Hatred is always self hatred, and there is something suicidal about it.”
“Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories.”
“Hatred had invaded her entire being; every cell in her body had hatred in it. She wondered if everyone could smell it on her. It smelled like death and coffee, like lilies and dirt, and it permeated her.”