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.
Pride and jealousy there was in his eye, for his life had been spent in asserting rights which were constantly liable to invasion and the prompt, fiery, and resolute disposition of the man, had been kept constantly upon the alert by the circumstances of his situation.
Jealousy contains more of self-love than of love.
In jealousy there is more of self-love than love.
Jealousy is all the fun you think they had...