1 He had a wild hate for the relentless foe.
2 From under his creased brows he glowered with hate at the mockers.
3 And he hated the lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine minds.
4 It was a woman, red and white, hating and loving, that called him with the voice of his hopes.
5 Once he, in his intent hate, was almost alone, and was firing, when all those near him had ceased.
6 He crouched behind a little tree, with his eyes burning hatefully and his teeth set in a curlike snarl.
7 He beat his foot upon the ground, and scowled with hate at the swirling smoke that was approaching like a phantom flood.
8 He had proceeded with wisdom and from the most righteous motives under heaven's blue only to be frustrated by hateful circumstances.
9 Yesterday, when he had imagined the universe to be against him, he had hated it, little gods and big gods; to-day he hated the army of the foe with the same great hatred.
10 When, in a dream, it occurred to the youth that his rifle was an impotent stick, he lost sense of everything but his hate, his desire to smash into pulp the glittering smile of victory which he could feel upon the faces of his enemies.