Believe you me, I love all - just not people.

Of course I love you. For real. I will sure come and personally meet you myself. Just to make sure you're well. When is your funeral?

Believe you me, I am all for you; and wish you well - for you to go to hell.

Humans, left to own misguided devices, scratches the Divine in the self as one would the lice, but remember to lick well all the vices.

All humans are rogues. Cured only by death.

I love you as I do all - not at all.