Violets

Saying you "hate" violets makes you sound like an awful person. I don't mean the potted African violets you buy at the grocery store, and pure violet perfume is beautiful and rare. However, the little wild ones are considered invasive weeds, and the roots form a thick mat that has to be hacked out. They get a few tiny flowers in the spring, but that's it for all the trouble. They're also drought and herbicide resistant, although I've never been desperate enough too spray them with poison.
Having said those mean things, violets are also a beloved flower in literature and music. Obviously a different variety than the ones I have. Do you know the pretty old Frank Sinatra song "I bought you violets for your furs...?"
Or how about Liza Doolittle selling violets in front of the theater in My Fair Lady? Lots of sweet images.
And there are dozens of references to violets in Shakespeare's poetry and plays. Here's one describing Titania's sleeping bower in A Midsummer Night's Dream:

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania some time of the night...