“All I wanted, even when I hated you most, was some poor, barren, parched excuse to love you. But you only gave me riddles.”

“I hate the way you talk to meAnd the way you cut your hairI hate the way you drive my carI hate it when you stareI hate your big dumb combat bootsAnd the way you read my mindI hate you so much, that it makes me sickAnd even makes me rhymeI hate the way you're always rightI hate it when you lieI hate it when you make me laughEven worse when you make me cryI hate it when you not aroundAnd the fact that you didn't callBut mostly I hate the way I don't hate youNot even closeNot even a little bitNot even at all”

“Alright. You hate me, I'm not too fond of you. It's mutual..." he muttered, walking hesitantly toward the stallion, hand outstretched, "I know you want to bite my hand off, but I swear I have no carrots, so you have no excuse. You want to throw me when I get on you...but if you even try, I will stab you.”

“I hate it, all of this," I screamed, my voice breaking. "I even hate him, even him." A huge sob came up from my chest.And I did, right then. I hated you for everything; for making me feel so helpless everywhere I went, for making me lose control. I hated you for all the emotions in my head, for the confusion... for the way I was suddenly doubting everything. I hated you for turning my life upside down and then smashing it into shards. I hated you for making me stand with a whirring fan in my hand, screaming at my mum. But I hated you for something else, too. Right then, and at every moment since you'd left me, all I could think about was you. I wanted you in that apartment. I wanted your arms around me, your face close to mine. I wanted your smell. And I knew I couldn't-shouldn't-have it. That's what I hated most. The uncertainty of you. You'd kidnapped me, put my life in danger... but I loved you, too. Or thought I did. None of it made sense.”

“He wants you back," slurred Beth. "Excuse me?" "He's in love with you and want you to be his one and only. And some other bullshit about you not being in second place and proving you wrong.”

“I hate when a director says to me 'Here's how I envision this scene'...excuse me? It's right here in the script - I 'envisioned' it FOR you. Do what I wrote. If you want to 'envision', you should become a writer. Where the fuck were you when the page was blank?”