Everyone loathes his own country and countrymen if he is any sort of artist.

I loved my country, and I hated him.

My country is a disgrace to me, but you are a disgrace to your country.

I hate patriotism. I can't stand it, man — makes me fuckin' sick. It's a round world last time I checked.

The air of the countryside is gloomy and oppressive,
the touch of the countryside is gritty and sickening,
when I sometimes think of the countryside,
I'm tormented by the smell of animal skin coarse in
texture.I fear the countryside,
the countryside is a pale fever dream.

Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.

"I am nauseated by all these rotten people in Europe - and these fucking "democracies" are not worth even a crumb."

I hate the place like poison with a sincere hatred.

I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.

How does one hate a country, or love one? [...] I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one's country; is it hate of one's uncountry?

How does one hate a country, or love one?... I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is the love of one's country; is it hate of one's uncountry? Then it's not a good thing.

I despise my own nation most. Because I know it best. Because I still love it, suffering from Hope. For me, that's patrotism.

It is the most miserable thing to feel ashamed of home.

It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.