词汇：hate

vt. 憎恨；厌恶；遗憾

相关场景

Okay, I hate every one of you.
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I hate this margin.
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NASA hates fire.
>> 火星救援 The Martian (2015) Movie Script
“Yes, I remember our picnics,” she said. “We mostly quarreled. He wanted what I wouldn’t give. I wanted what he didn’t have. That was a long time ago, before my boys died.” Tears came to her eyes when she said it, as they always did when the thought of her boys struck her. She was aware that she was being anything but hospitable, and that the man didn’t understand what she said. She scarcely knew what she meant herself—she just knew that the sight of Woodrow Call aroused in her an unreasoning hate and disgust.
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“I hate it when a child is sick,” she said. “I loathe it. I get too scared. It’s like...” She stopped a minute to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “It’s like there’s something doesn’t want me to get a boy raised,” Clara said, her voice cracking.
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“Them’s beaver,” Old Hugh kept saying. “You trap beaver, you don’t shoot ’em. A bullet will ruin the pelt and the pelt’s the whole point.” “Well, I hate the little toothy sons of bitches,” Jasper said. “The pelts be damned.” Call kept riding northwest until even Old Hugh began to be worried. The great line of the Rockies was clear to the west.
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“Hell, a frog could have waded that creek yesterday,” Pea said. “Now look at it. It’s still raining, too. We may get drowned instead of scalped. It’s a good thing Jasper ain’t here,” he added. “He’s mighty afraid of water.” “Actually, this flood is an opportunity for you,” Augustus said. “If we can last the day, you might swim past them tonight and get away.” “Well, but that wouldn’t be right,” Pea Eye said. “I wouldn’t want just to leave you sitting here.” “I won’t be sitting, I’ll be floating, if this keeps up,” Augustus said. “The good aspect of it is that it might cool off these Indians. They might go back to their families and let us be.” “I’d still hate to leave you, even so,” Pea said.
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“Well, we’re practically surrounded,” Augustus said. “I don’t expect we’ll hear any more from them till dark.” “I’d hate to wait around here till dark,” Pea Eye said.
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“Pea, you ain’t got your grip on the point,” Augustus said. “I just wanted to chase a buffalo once more. I won’t have the chance much longer, and nobody else will either, because there won’t be no buffalo to chase. It’s a grand sport too.” “Them bulls can hook you,” Pea Eye reminded him. “Remember old Barlow? A buffalo bull hooked his horse and the horse fell on Barlow and broke his hip.” “Barlow was a slow thinker,” Augustus observed. “He just loped along and got hooked.” “A slow walker, too, once his hip got broke,” Pea Eye said. “I wonder what happened to Barlow.” “I think he migrated to Seguin, or somewhere over in there,” Augustus said. “Married a fat widow and had a passel of offspring. You ought to have done the same, but here you are in Montana.” “Well, I’d hate not to be a bachelor,” Pea Eye said.
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Finally he decided to send Augustus. “I hate to give you the first look, but somebody’s got to look,” he said. “Would you want to go?” “Oh, sure,” Augustus said. “I’d be happy to get away from all this tedious conversation. Maybe I’ll trot through this Miles City community and see if anyone stocks champagne.” “Take the look around first, if you can be bothered,” Call said. “I doubt the main street of Miles City would make a good ranch, and I doubt you’ll get any farther, once you spot a saloon. We need to find a place and get some shelters built before winter hits. Take a man with you, in case you get into trouble,” Call suggested.
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Augustus turned and walked away. “I hate funerals,” he said. “Particularly this one.” “At the rate we’re dropping off, there won’t be many of us left by the time we get to Montana,” Lippy said, as they were all walking back to camp.
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Deets saw, too, at the last second, that the boy wasn’t going to stop. The young warrior wasn’t blind, but the look in hiseyes was as unseeing as the baby’s. He was still screaming a war cry—it was unnerving in the stillness—and his eyes were filled with hate. The old lance just looked silly. Deets held the baby out again, thinking the boy hadn’t understood.
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“I hate a man that talks rude,” he said. “I won’t tolerate it.” With that he turned and rode out of town. The people watching kept quiet. Rough as the place was, accustomed as they all were to sudden death, they felt they had seen something extraordinary, something they would rather not have seen.
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“You dern cowboys are too fond of your horses,” Dixon said. “I’m fair tired of being told your ponies ain’t for sale.” “This one ain’t, for damn sure, and anyway you won’t be in no shape to ride when I get through with you,” Dish said, barely controlling his voice. “I’d hate to think I’d let a man spit on me and then ride off.” Dixon spat again. This time, since Dish was facing him, the juice hit him square in the breast. Dixon and the soldiers all laughed.
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“Well, you’re always telling us how much you hate to serve cold food,” Betsey said.
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“You’d hate it worse if we had a bunch of studs running around here,” Clara said. “One of them might crack your head just like that mustang cracked your father’s.” She paused by the table a minute and tickled one of the baby’s feet.
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“We’ve got to geld some horses,” Clara said. “We’ve put it off too long, hoping Bob would get back on his feet.” “I hate it when you do that,” Sally said.
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Not only had no one talked at the hanging, no one had talked since, either. Captain Call kept well to himself, riding far from the herd all day and sleeping apart at night. Mr. Gus stayed back with Lorena, only showing up at mealtimes. Deets was very quiet when he was around, and he wasn’t around much—he spent his days scouting far ahead of the herd, which was traveling easily. The Texas bull had assumed the lead position, passing Old Dog almost every day and only giving up the lead to go snort around the tails of whatever cows interested him. He had lost none of his belligerence. Dish, who rode the point, had come to hate him even more than Needle Nelson did.
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“But she put a grasshopper down my neck,” the younger girl said. “I hate her.” “I don’t care who hates who,” the woman said. “I was up with this baby all night—you know how colicky he is. You don’t have to scream right under my window—looks like there be room on this prairie for you to scream without doing it undermy window. All we got here is room.” “It was a grasshopper,” the little girl insisted.
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“These goddamn sodbusters,” he said. “I hate their guts and livers.” “Well, that’s fine, Dan,” Roy said. “They’re dead enough.” “No, they ain’t,” Dan said. “A goddamn sodbuster can never be dead enough to suit me.” With that he went over and got the can of coal oil he had used to start the fire. He began to splash it on the hanged men’s clothes.
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“You shoot him, Roy,” little Eddie said. “I hate to.” “No, Dan’s mad at me anyway,” Roy said. “If I do something he ordered you to do, I’ll be the one shot.” With that he mounted and rode off too. Jake walked over to his horse, feeling that it had been a black day when he met the Suggses.
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“Yes, Frog’s the one with the slug in his gut,” Dan said. “He’s the one that needs to finish up dying. Shoot him and let’s ride.” “I hate to shoot Frog,” little Eddie said in a dazed tone.
“是的，青蛙就是那个肚子里有鼻涕虫的人，”丹说。“他才是那个需要结束生命的人。开枪打死他，我们骑马吧。”“我讨厌开枪打死青蛙，”小埃迪茫然地说。
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Augustus had made a fire of buffalo chips and was complaining about it. “Dern, I hate to cook with shit,” he said. “I hear you lost your pony.” “Yes. Ben was riding him. It wasn’t his fault, though,” Newt said.
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“We oughta go get them boys out of jail,” Roy Suggs said. “They might make good regulators.” “If a girl and one sheriff can take ’em, I wouldn’t want ’em,” Dan Suggs said. “Besides, I had some trouble with Jim once, myself. I’d go watch him hang, if I had time, damn him.” Their talk, it seemed, was mostly of killing. Even little Eddie, the youngest, claimed to have killed three men, two nesters and a Mexican. The rest of the outfit didn’t mention numbers, but Jake had no doubt that he was riding with accomplished killers. Dan Suggs seemed to hate everybody he knew—he spoke in the vilest language of everyone, but his particular hatred was cowboys. He had trailed a herd once and not done well with it, and it had left him resentful of those with better luck.
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“I don’t know, we ain’t there yet,” Augustus said. “What’s the word on Jake?” “He was in Fort Worth when we passed by,” Call said. “I guess he’s mainly card playing.” “I met that sheriff that’s after him,” Augustus said. “He’s ahead of us somewhere. His wife run off and Blue Duck killed his deputy and two youngsters who were traveling with him. He’s got other things on his mind besides Jake.” “He’s welcome to Jake, if he wants him,” Call said. “I won’t defend a man who lets a woman get stolen and just goes back to his cards.” “It was wisdom,” Augustus said. “Blue Duck would have scattered Jake over two counties if he had run into him.” “I call it cowardice,” Call said. “Why didn’t you kill Blue Duck?” “He’s quick,” Augustus said. “I couldn’t follow him on this piece of soap I’m riding. Anyway, I had Lorie to consider.” “I hate to let a man like that get away,” Call said.
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