Whatever spiteful fools may say, Each jealous ranting yelper, No woman ever went astray, Without a man to help her
Love looks through a telescope; envy, through a microscope.
Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretence of keeping it alive.
Envy and jealousy are the private parts of the human soul. Perhaps the comparison can be extended.
Jealousy is the most radical primeval and naked form of admiration in war paint, so to speak.
War, hate, jealousy, racism - what are they but manifestations of fear?
If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang.
Jealousy is one of love's parasites.
He who surpasses or subdues mankind, must look down on the hate of those below.
The jealousy I feel twards Orlando Bloom exists on many levels.
Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love's delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.
Critics? Don't talk to me of critics! You think some jackanapes journalist, his soul eaten away by the maggots of jealousy and failure, has anything worthwhile to say of art? I don't.
The jealous are possessed by a mad devil and a dull spirit at the same time.
The spirit of the world encloses four kinds of spirits, diametrically opposed to charity--the spirit of resentment, spirit of aversion, spirit of jealousy and the spirit of indifference.
Jealousy. . . is a mental cancer.
Jealousy. . . is the most obvious sign of impotency.
There are as many jealousies in life as there are different flowers or trees or animals.
People are taken aback by a confident, pretty girl who knows what she wants in life and isn't going to let anyone get in her way. And you know what it's all about? Jealousy.
He who is jealous, is never jealous of what you see, with what is imagined is enough.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.