66 Jealousy Quotes

Love is a virtue; it grows stronger and purer and less selfish by applying it to what it loathes; but theft is a vice involving the slave-idea that one's neighbor is superior to oneself.

Nothing is more capable of troubling our reason, and consuming our health, than secret notions of jealousy in solitude.

A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envieth virtue in others. For men's minds, will either feed upon their own good, or upon others' evil; and who wanteth the one, will prey upon the other; and whoso is out of hope, to attain to another's virtue, will seek to come at even hand, by depressing another's fortune.

I tell him [husband Emilio] you are lucky I am not a jealous woman, because look at the women he's worked with: Shakira, Jennifer Lopez, Thalia, Madonna. These very sexy women. I trust him.

Jealousy in romance is like salt in food. A little can enhance the savor, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life-threatening.

Cruelty has a human heart, And Jealousy a human face; Terror the human form divine, And Secrecy the human dress.

This is the worst of love, this unmeant mystification - someone smiling and going out without saying where, or a letter arriving, being read in your presence, put away, not explained, or: 'No, alas, I can't to-night' on the telephone - that, one person having set up without knowing, the other cannot undo without the where? who? why? that brings them both down a peg. Jealousy is no more than feeling alone against smiling enemies.

He [Finny] had never been jealous of me for a second. Now I knew that there never was and never could have been any rivalry between us. I was not of the same quality as he.

I leaned right over to kiss your stoney book A little jealous of the ships with whom you flirt A billion lovers with their cameras Snap to look and in my fantasy I sail beneath your skirt

Angels listen when she speaks: She 's my delight, all mankind's wonder; But my jealous heart would break Should we live one day asunder.

First, then, a woman will or won't, depend on 't; If she will do 't, she will; and there 's an end on 't. But if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is, Fear is affront, and jealousy injustice.

Maybe that's the reason,' Adam said slowly, feeling his way. 'Maybe if I had loved him I would have been jealous of him. You were. Maybe-maybe love makes you suspicious and doubting. Is it true that when you love a woman you are never sure-never sure of her because you aren't sure of yourself? I can see it pretty clearly. I can see how you loved him and what it did to you. I did not love him. Maybe he loved me. He tested me and hurt me and punished me and finally he sent me out like a sacrifice, maybe to make up for something. But he did not love you, and so he had faith in you. Maybe - why, maybe it's a kind of reverse.

Last night I was making love to my wife and nothing was happening, so I said to her, What's the matter, you can't think of anybody either?

Out on the wiley, windy moors We'd roll and fall in green. You had a temper like my jealousy: Too hot, too greedy. How could you leave me, When I needed to possess you? I hated you. I loved you, too.

I was angry with you about him, furious that he so much as set eyes on you. I would rather kill you than see you lie in his arms.' 'is that love then? A thing that leads to murder?' 'I don't know. In all honesty, I don't know. You're mine. What's mine I keep, I rule, and give my body over to defend. I offer you my honor, and my life. That's not an easy thing. Its within your power to break my pride, and take that life, insignificant though it is.' 'you put it very simply.' 'its not. Such a gift rouses strange passions, fears of treachery, and deep distrust. I'm not immune to them.' 'no one told me it would be like this. Perhaps it won't go into words, what I feel for you. Its not desire, yet I love your touch, the warm softness of your flesh against mine.'

I can't stand it! I know I've got the best tits on stage, and yet they're all staring at a girl who hasn't got any!

Jealously: 'There are few surer ways to become disliked by men than to perform well where they have performed poorly.'

When I see a fine sister with a white man, I get pissed. I get mad. I don't get violent, but I get mad. I'm like, 'Damn, baby, what do I got to do : to get with you?' I mean, what must I do?

If you haven't contemplated murder, you ain't been in love. If you haven't seriously thought about killing a motherfucker, you ain't been in love. If you haven't had a can of rat poison in your hand and looked at it for forty-five minutes straight, you ain't been in love. If you haven't bought a shovel and a bag and a rug to roll their ass up in, you ain't been in love. If you haven't practiced your alibi in front of the mirror, you ain't been in love. And the only thing that's stopped you from killing this motherfucker was a episode of CSI: 'Oh man, they thorough. I better make up. They might catch my ass.'

Women hate women. You get any two girlfriends in this room, been girlfriends for twenty five years, you put a man in between them : 'fuck that bitch', 'fuck that bitch'. Guys are not like that. Guys actually think that there are other fish in the sea, and if a guy introduces his boy to his new girlfriend, and when they walk away, his boy goes, 'Oh man, she's nice, I gotta get me a girl like that.' If a woman introduces her new man to her girlfriend, and they walk away, her girlfriend goes, 'I gotta get him, and I will slit that bitch's throat to do it.' Every girl in here got a girlfriend they don't trust around their man.

Yes I'm a lot prettier than you and you're a girl...I noticed. Pfft, do you believe this? This girl is mad at me cause I'm prettier than her and she's a girl. Don't worry honey, nobody noticed.

Can't I another's face commend, And to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead lowers, As if her merit lessen'd yours?

That Kitty was capable of any deep grief was unbelievable. He had gradually grown to think of her as something unapproachable and callous. She would get a divorce, of course, and eventually she would marry again. He began to consider this. Whom would she marry? He laughed bitterly, stopped; a picture flashed before him-of Kitty's arms around some man whose face he could not see, of Kitty's lips pressed close to other lips in what was surely: passion.

I went into a line of work in which jealousy is the principal emotion between practitioners. I don't think I ever suffered from it, because there was no need. But I was aware of it in others, and I found it a regrettable fault.

I see them walking in an air of glory Whose light doth trample on my days, My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays.

'Will you stop talking about Davey please? I'm jealous. I thought you liked me more than him.'

Women my wife's age with broken marriages take up robustly with fellows much younger than themselves, sometimes boys, and their husbands don't like that part of it at all. (It's a means they have of really sticking it to us. The husbands can do without the money and kids. But they can't abide their wives' humping a younger dick and letting everyone know.)

Hemingway hated me. I outsell him and he was steamed. One day he wrote a story for Bluebook berating me. So I'm going on a big TV show in Chicago and I don't get it, that's sour grapes... I mean if you can't say something nice about someone why say anything at all?

There were many, too, who hated him. Hated him for being young, for being excellent, for having made their victories look paltry and weak.

Will you shut up about your envy of [them]? For one day, for one hour, for one minute will you just stop and give a thought to reality?

The other night I woke up and my wife was saying sexy things. I looked over and she was on the phone.

When I tried to kiss my date goodnight she pushed me away. I said, 'Is there someone else?' She said, 'There must be.'

One day I was driving home and saw a guy jogging naked. I asked why, he said, ''Cause you came home early!'

But of course, Aryan, like all children, hates having to share the spotlight. He's very proud of the fact that Suhana is not allowed to play in the garden (because she's too small and delicate). And if you come home, he'll tell you proudly how Suhana keeps crying, unlike Aryan, who's a big strong man!

They are jealous of me in every way! They're jealous of my talent, they're jealous of my looks, they're jealous of my potency, they're jealous of my chess! They're just jealous bastards. They are ugly, they are jealous...I was over in Israel, I went to a change room a few times. I saw their penises...they are pitiful, they are small, they are just...dry, you know, all of them circumsized. Just very sad. I understand they're jealous.

And if it tortures you to know that another man was with her in her life, console yourself with this: he only knew her but the once

Josif told me. That he thought he was going to fall in love with you. Did you mind? Why should I mind? There's plenty of love, what should I care? I love both you and him, you know, and you love both of us, but he kept talking as if it were something that could only - as if once he loved you, he would have to stop loving me. He said that. He said that if he ever made love to you it would be. It would be what? It would be after he stopped loving me

I want Josif. Now No Aren't you through? Do you think you can still save something? Or are you determined that if you can't have my love, and you can't, Riktors, you can't - then no one can. If you ever loved me, Riktors, you will let me have Josif. Now

Uhh, can it be fate/that makes a sick muthafucka break/On these jealous ass coward cuz they evil and fake

If Marilyn is in love with my husband it proves she has good taste, for I am in love with him too.

Congratulation, n. The civility of envy.

Should there be danger of such an event - should he be the cause of adding a single more trouble to her existence - Why, I think, I shall be justified in goint to extremes! I wish you had sincerity enough to tell me whether Catherine would suffer greatly from his loss. The fear that she would restrains me: and there you see the distinction between our feelings - Had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society, as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drunk his blood! But, till then, if you don't believe me, you don't know me - till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his head!

Jealousy is indeed a poor medium to secure love, but it is a secure medium to destroy one's self-respect. For jealous people, like dope-fiends, stoop to the lowest level and in the end inspire only disgust and loathing.

Le mal que nous faisons ne nous attire pas tant de persecution et de haine que nos bonnes qualites.

La jalousie se nourrit dans les doutes, et elle devient fureur, ou elle finit, sitot qu'on passe du doute a la certitude.

Il y a dans la jalousie plus d'amour-propre que d'amour.

La jalousie nait toujours avec l'amour, mais elle ne meurt pas toujours avec lui.

Il est quelquefois agreable a un mari d'avoir une femme jalouse; il entend toujours parler de ce qu'il aime.

No-one is completely unhappy at the failure of his best friend.

We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like?

How happy I am, if you say this from your heart! For I love thee so, that I could sooner bear to see thee hang'd than in the Arms of another.

When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon. Don't turn on the lights, you can read their address by the moon. And you won't make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened your night: We weren't lovers like that and besides it would still be all right.

Whom the gods notice they destroy. Be small...and you will escape the jealousy of the great.

Jealousy is a disease, love is a healthy condition. The immature mind often confuses one for the other, or assumes the greater the love, the greater the jealousy. In fact they are almost incompatible; both at once produce unbearable turmoil.

A competent and self-confident person is incapable of jealousy in anything. Jealousy is invariably a symptom of neurotic insecurity.

The World, thinking itself affronted by superior merit, takes delight to bring it down to its own level.

When Sartre and I met not only did our backgrounds fuse, but also our solidity, our individual conviction that we were what we were made to be. In that framework we could not become rivals. Then, as the relationship between Sartre and me grew, I became convinced that I was irreplaceable in his life, and he in mine. In other words, we were totally secure in the knowledge that our relationship was also totally solid, again preordained, though, of course, we would have laughed at that word then. When you have such security it's easy not to be jealous. But had I thought that another woman played the same role as I did in Sartre's life, of course, I would have been jealous.

I received an impassioned letter from Sonoko. There was no doubt that she was truly in love. I felt jealous. Mine was the unbearable jealousy a cultured pearl must feel toward a genuine one. Or can there be such a thing in this world as a man who is jealous of the woman who loves him, precisely because of her love?