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I don’t get jealousy, I don’t get how people hate each other – I never did.
What we used to say was whoever had the bow tie got to lead the band. There was never any jealousy.
I like jealous men. I love jealousy. I do.
There tends to be a jealousy in England towards countries that are successful.
There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp despondency of uneasy egoism.
The surest route to breeding jealousy is to compare. Since jealousy comes from feeling less than another, comparisons only fan the fires.
Jealousy is not at all low, but it catches us humbled and bowed down, at first sight.
In my experience lust only ever leads to misery. All that suspicion and jealousy and anguish it unleashes. I don’t want those things in my life.
People can do all kinds of things that maybe aren’t wise in hindsight because of jealousy.
Jealousy would be far less torturous if we understood that love is a passion entirely unrelated to our merits.