Quotes About Jealousy

Looking at Sophie's well developed bosom, Harriet felt at a disadvantage. Perhaps Sophie's shape would not last. but it was enviable while it lasted.

Over time, jealousy becomes an element as indispensable as paint in the life of the master artist.

It was not Orhan and ?evket locked in deadly combat but my own favorite hero or soccer player versus my brother's.

The "sage of love" within me (acquired from who knew what egregious experience) was crowing about Füsun's misstep: By speaking too sincerely, she had lost. From this reaction I deduced that my jealous worries and obsessions would soon subside.

Your suspicion attracts suspicion. Jealousy brings more jealousy, hate more hate, just as love brings love to meet it, as friendliness brings more friendliness, as sympathy and good will toward all draw the same to you from others and increase your popularity and magnetic power.

It is in our non-producing moments that negatives, such as fear, worry, anxiety, hatred, and jealously get in their destructive work.

The majority of people carry in their minds and in their hearts, grudges, jealousy, envy, antipathies, prejudices, which, although not very pronounced in their expression, are festering within and poisoning the inner life.

About as poor business as one can engage in is that of going through life with one's eyes so fixed upon what others have, that he cannot enjoy or appreciate his own.

We are just beginning to see the wonderful scientific truth in the philosophy which tells us to love our enemies, because if we hate them we merely add more fuel to passion's fire, while love puts it out. The love thought neutralizes hatred, jealousy, and makes friends of our enemies. There is nothing in love which can make an enemy. The injunction to love our enemies is, therefore, as scientific as the advice to put out fire by water.

Maybe we only thought we were different from each other out of jealousy

Oh, brothers! I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.

Every effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be a mediocrity.

I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. I am jealous of the portrait you have painted of me. Why should it keep what I must lose? Every moment that passes takes something from me and gives something to it. Oh, if it were only the other way! If the picture could change, and I could be always what I am now! Why did you paint it? It will mock me some day—mock me horribly!

Plain women are always jealous of their husbands. Beautiful women never are. They are always so occupied with being jealous of other women's husbands.

Bad artists always admire each others work.

You, who know all the secrets of life, tell me how to charm Sibyl Vane to love me! I want to make Romeo jealous, I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain. My God, Harry, how I worship her!

I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die.

Time is jealous of you, and wars against your lilies and your roses.

You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. I worshipped you. I grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself.

He had hidden in a city filled with black glass. But its surfaces made poor reflections, clinging jealously to their color as if they would reveal terrible pictures if they were allowed to clear.

Talih hiç de böyle bir ÅŸey olmayabilirdi. Karanl?kta yatm?? ölülere haset etmediÄŸi geceler nadirdi.

Jealousy still gave him a pang. The heart was a stupid thing.

A mutually fulfilled sexual union between two people is the rarest sensation which life can provide. But it is not quite real. It stops when the telephone rings. Such a passion can be kept at its early strength only by adding to it either more and more unhappiness (jealousy, separation, doubt, renunciation), or more and more artificiality (drink, technique, stage-illusions). Whoever has missed this has never lived, who lives for it alone is but partly alive.

Light, old boy? said Beatrice, tilting her cigarette at him. He bent forward to her to light his cigarette at hers. She was winking at him as he did so. Miriam saw his eyes trembling with mischief, and his full, almost sensual mouth quivering. He was not himself, and she could not bear it. As he was now, she had no connection with him, she might as well not have existed. She saw the cigarette dancing on his full red lips. She hated his thick hair for being tumbled loose on his forehead.