Misanthropy is born, I think, out of an almost oppressive sense of loneliness, a conviction that there's no one on earth who understands you. I don't think misanthropes hate people: They hate that people hate them.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I don't know whether I'm misanthropic. It seems to me I'm constantly disappointed. I'm very easily disappointed. Disappointed in the things that people do; disappointed in the things that people construct. I want things to be better all the time.
There's a lot to be said for misanthropy.
I don't know whether I'm misanthropic. It seems to me I'm constantly disappointed. I'm very easily disappointed.
My brother asked me once, 'Are you a misanthrope?' And I said, 'No, I just find people irritating.'
I'm still a recluse. I still hate everyone. I'm still a misanthrope.
I don't hate anyone. I dislike. But my dislike is the equivalent of anyone else's hate.
The joy of hate reflects people who get off pretending to hate something, or hate you, in order to score political points. I call them the 'tolerati' - you know, a group of people who claim to be tolerant, except when they run into someone who disagrees with them.
I hate hateful people.
Real misanthropes are not found in solitude, but in the world; since it is experience of life, and not philosophy, which produces real hatred of mankind.
There are very few misanthropes, thank goodness!