Best 632 quotes in «jealousy quotes» category

A part of me wants to spin around and slam the bottom of my heel into her head. In kick-boxing, we'd call that a Spinning Back Kick. Here, it's called, "how to get my crazy jealous ass fired." There's no way I'd get a thumbs up from Cain on that part.

Archer wouldn't consider her allowance of the guard to be evidence of the powers of rational argument. He'd take it as proof that she was in love with whichever of her guards was the most handsome.

As jealousy entered, trust left... and their dream of a relationship began to wither into a nightmare... a nightmare in which love just wasn't enough.

At least I could tell she wouldn't try to kill me in my sleep now.

Attempting to appropriate or denigrate the popularity of others will backfire and undermine yours.

As soon as jealousy is discovered, it is regarded by the person who is its object as a challenge which justifies deception.

At the root of every form of ungodliness, injustice, nepotism, selfishness, every rivalry and competitive jealousy, is the monster called greed.

Atticus adjusted his glasses as he peered down at the blanket. “Hey, is that the book Nellie told us about?” Jake’s eyes flicked to Olivia’s book. “You’ve got it outside in the sun? Are you out of your minds?” Amy crossed her arms. “We’re being careful.” “It’s not about careful, this is a five-hundred-year-old manuscript! You should be wearing gloves—Atticus brought some—and keeping it out of the sunlight.” “It didn’t take you long to start barking orders!” Any exclaimed, her face flushing. “But then you always know best, don’t you?” “Somebody has to be mature in this situation,” Jake said, his gaze flashing at Ian, who was now intently trying to brush cookie crumbs off his pants. “True. In that case, we’d rather consult your little brother,” Ian said with a smirk. “Medieval manuscripts are his field, am I right?” “Technically, it’s early Renaissance,” Jake said. “Thanks for the correction, my good man. Amy is right—you do know best.” Ian slipped his arm around Amy. “She’s so perceptive. One of the many things I adore about her.” “It’s getting chilly. Why don’t we go inside?” Amy suggested brightly as she tried to step out of the circle of Ian’s arm. Ian took the opportunity to rub her shoulder. “You do feel rather cold,” he said. “Let’s sit by the fire. Jake, since you’re so interested in proper handling, why don’t you take the book?” Jake snatched up the book and furiously stomped off toward the house. “You forgot to wear gloves!” Ian called after him. Amy pushed him away. “Really, Ian.” “What a touchy guy,” Ian said. “Frankly, I don’t know what you see in him.” He winced as the kitchen door slammed, then glanced at Amy’s red face. “Hmmm. It might be a good time for me to take a walk.

At this point, the jealousy that tortured me all my life commenced, and the force with which it came over me marked me forever. It became my true passion, utterly heedless of any attempts at convincing me or pointing out a better way.

A watched pot never boils, but if I took my eyes from these negative thoughts for a second they would spill over the edges of my lips, and boil the beautiful moment alive as we lived it.

Back at home, after some prodding from Tereza, he admitted that he had been jealous watching her dance with a colleague of his. "You mean you were really jealous?" she asked him ten times or more, incredulously, as though someone had just informed her she had been awarded a Nobel Peace prize. Then she put her arm around his waist and began dancing across the room. The step she used was not the one she had shown off in the bar. It was more like a village polka, a wild romp that sent her legs flying in the air and her torso bounding all over the room, with Tomas in tow. Before long, unfortunately, she bagan to be jealous herself, and Tomas saw her jealously not as a Nobel Prize, but as a burden, a burden he would be saddled with until not long before his death.

Be careful what you wish for others, it just might get you.

Beauty is more a danger than intelligence or wit. One becomes a living mirror for the inadequacies of others.

Before Charlotte could utter a syllable, Tristan picked up her gloved hand and kissed her lightly on the knuckles. “Good day, Charlotte,” he said. “Good day,” she answered. She turned to bid farewell to Lady Rosalind, but she seemed to have disappeared. Numbly, she descended the front steps toward a waiting Rothbury, who only had eyes for the Devines’ front door, looking quite like he wanted to murder someone. “Perfection, dear brother,” Rosalind proclaimed, while peeking out the little window next to the door. “Utter perfection.” Slipping a finger inside his cravat to loosen it a bit, Tristan craned his neck from side to side, easing the building tension. “If he kills me, I’ll see to it that you get hanged for murder as well.

As the saying goes ‘Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul’. But “Jealousy is also a catalyst to ignite love or for that matter it lets you know you are in love”.

Because I believe there is nothing so self-destroying, and no emotion quite so despicable, as jealousy.

Because when your potential competition was some ancient, occasionally suave dude who dressed in velvet and still looked twenty-something, nothing could make you feel a lot better.

Because he has finally realized that it is it and not him that is loved by the woman he loves, many a man is jealous of his own car, house, wardrobe, or salary.

... Because the writer resented that she had turned to me I became the handsome and dazed narrator, incapable of love or kindness. That's how I became the damaged party boy who wandered through the wreckage, blood streaming from his nose, asking questions that never required answers. That's how I became the boy who never understood how anything worked. That's how I became the boy who wouldn't save a friend. That's how I became the boy who couldn't love the girl.

Be that kind of girl who smiles when you walk past other girls instead of casting a dirty look. Don't buy into the notion of female competition that society so heavily promotes.

Beware of those around you who subtly sow the seeds of doubt.

BEWARE OF THOSE Beware of those who are bitter, For they will never allow you To enjoy your fruit. Beware of those who criticize you When you deserve some praise for an achievement, For they secretly desire to be worshiped. Beware of those who are needy or stingy, For they would rather sting you Than give you anything. Beware of those who are always hungry. They will feed you to the wolves Just to get paid. Beware of those who speak negatively About everything and everybody. A negative person will never say A positive thing about you. Beware of those who are bored And not passionate about life. They will bore you with reasons for not living. Beware of those who are too focused with Polishing and beautifying their outer shells. They lack true substance to understand That genuine beauty is in the heart that resides inside. Beware of those who step in the path of your dreams. They only dream to have the ability To take half your steps. Beware of those who steer you away From your heart’s true happiness. It would make them happy to see you Steer yourself next to them, Sitting with both your hearts bitter. Those who are critical don’t like being criticized, And those who are insensitive have a deficiency in their senses. And finally, Beware of those who tell you to BEWARE. They are too aware of everything – And live alone, scared.

Beware of those who steer you away from your heart’s true happiness. It would make them happy to see you steer yourself right next to them, sitting with both your hearts bitter.

Beware of those who step in the path of your dreams. They only dream to have the ability to take half your steps.

Beware of those who criticize you when you deserve some praise for an achievement, for it is they who secretly desire to be worshiped.

Billie laughed at that, full and throaty, and once again she became so incandescently beautiful that George was half-tempted to throw a blanket over her, just to stop anyone else from wanting her.

Bones was lost in the sweat on her exquisitely sweating body. He was jealous of her sweat. He wanted to be her sweat. Even through the viewfinder he could see her ribcage pressing against her leotard like a musical instrument. He wanted to play her long into the night.

Being hated isn't easy, you know. You just cannot falter meeting their expectations.

Being jealous does nothing. It turns you into a person who’s unable to feel genuine happiness, and tarnishes every accomplishment when it’s used to measure your sense of worth on a made-up scale. You hear about a friend’s promotion (in an industry that probably isn’t yours) and feel like you will never venture past your existing achievements. You hear someone from high school is getting married and assume that you never will. You discover the guy you worked retail with in 2006 has a new apartment, and you sit wherever you happen to live and actively resent the space you loved five minutes ago. And feelings like will always come up; it’s just up to you to say “fuck off.” So, while I’d like to say you should just decide not to be jealous, and that we’re all in this together so let’s remember that and be best friends, I know that isn’t realistic because jealousy is immune to reason and logic…If I feel myself slipping into a jealousy wormhole when I see someone else shining, I remember that to gauge my self-worth based on someone else’s accomplishments is a one-way ticket to bitterness.

Be jealous of fellow men, but of those men who are pious - your fellow men who are honest, sincere and loyal with their friends, family and teachings of their Creator. See everyone as equal and wish no harm on anyone - who are we to judge each other when we are being judged by our Creator.

Believe me,' [...] 'I would know about it. That's the difference between me and your girlfriend. I am the jealous type. I am the Spanish Inquisition when it comes to being fucked around on. No quarter will be given.

Ben wore the same goofy smile as in the photo. Take that, new guy! I can make him happy too!

But could he endure it, that other men knew her in a way that he, Staines, did not? He did not know.

But I believe you are absolutely incapable of jealousy except as hurt vanity.

But jealousy is a dreadful thing, Jessica. It is the most natural to us of the really wicked passions and it goes deep and envenoms the soul. It must be resisted with every honest cunning and with the deliberate thinking of generous thoughts, however abstract and empty these may seem in comparison with that wicked strength... There is no merit, Jessica, in a faithfulness which is poison to you and captivity to him.

Besides, I'm not jealous. I'm just so in love with you that there isn't anything else.

But it's that fucking dress she's wearing. It's low-cut and tight and just...Jesus. Why would she wear a dress like that? Is she doing it just to torture me? I like the idea that maybe she had me in mind when she picked it out. Of course, she might be wearing it because she wants to get attention from other guys. I look around the wedding suspiciously, trying to see if anyone is looking at her. I don't want to have to punch someone out, but i'll do it if I have to.

But a vague jealousy, one of those dormant jealousies that develop between brothers or sisters almost unnoticed until maturity, only to burst out when one of them marries or has a stroke of good fortune, kept them constantly on the alert in a fraternal, unaggressive hostility. They did love each other, yet they kept an eye on each other.

...but now the love of Charles for Emma seemed to her a desertion from her tenderness, an encroachment upon what was hers, and she watched her son's happiness in sad silence, as a ruined man looks through the windows at people dining in his old house.

Confront all the angry thoughts, feelings, the jealousies and condemnations, to find their cause, seek the root of such feelings and then operate on that. Need of security and reassurance can cause criminal acts.

Claire hated to say it, but she knew the answer, in her heart. “Because he feels something for me, and he wanted to give me a chance to live. Like him. With him. But I refused.” Shane turned and looked at her, a blank expression on his face that turned quickly into . . . something else. Claire was glad Myrnin had gotten out while he still could. “Great,” he said. “I knew it.” “It’s not like that. He’s—” She shook her head in frustration. “It’s not like he’s in love with me or anything; it’s more complicated than that. I don’t even think he understands it, exactly.” “Yeah, he only loves you for your mind,” Shane said...

Compare the luxuries with a neighbour to feel bad, compare the miseries with a neighbour to feel good.

Controversy is a last resort for the talentless.

Cruelty has a human heart, And Jealousy a human face;

D'Artagnan had time to reflect that women - those gentle doves - treat one another more cruelly than bears and tigers.

Dear Girls Across the Globe, Let's stop body-shaming each other with hurtful comments about how another girl looks or doesn't look. We are all beautiful in our own unique way; so let's speak about each other with the dignity that we would want others to have when they speak about us.

Deep in infatuation I saw all things rosy Oh the thrill, the excitement, the new-found energy, and the bounce in my steps How so easy to make myself believe That I was in love! True love! From where came this jealousy? This anger? This bitterness? My loved one is hurting me I told myself repeatedly. Days passed. My negativity grew They need to pay for toying with me I swore Prayers for justice Curses to make them realise what they lost I saw all things black Found solace in quotes about Karma... From where came this calm? This blissful indifference? I don't know. I don't care. All I want to say is: thank you, Time.

Dennis faced him. They glared at each other again. Neither said a word until Dennis set the glasses down, leaned back against the counter, and folded his arms over his chest. "You're an idiot." "Seems to be a common conclusion. You're not my favourite person right now either.

Did you get rid of that sweater like I asked?" "Yes, Mother," Josey said. "I wasn't trying to be mean the other day. It just doesn't look good on you." "Yes, Mother," Josey said. The truth was, that sweater, that color, looked good on her daughter. And every time she wore it, it hinted at something that scared Margaret. Josey was growing into her beauty. Margaret watched Josey leave. She used to be a beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman around. She brought out the photo again. But that was forever ago.

Did I mention really, really jealous.