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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.
From heresy, frenzy and jealousy, good Lord deliver me.
Passion can quickly slip to jealousy, or even hatred.
Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.
Nothing is more capable of troubling our reason, and consuming our health, than secret notions of jealousy in solitude.
Jealousy is the grave of affection.