The home of a clergyman is constantly judged by its parishioners. If it is too large and richly decorated, it is the subject of jealousy. If it is too small and humble, it is the subject of scorn. If it is too clean and orderly, it is considered a museum where charity is untouched and kept in a box. If it is slovenly, it is the subject of disgust.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on.
With his current mood, Elizabeth realized, she was going to have to make her own opening. Lifting her eyes to his enigmatic golden ones, she said quietly, “Ian, have you ever wanted something very badly-something that was within your grasp-and yet you were afraid to reach out for it?†Surprised by her grave question and her use of his name, Ian tried to ignore the jealousy that had been eating at him all night. “No,†he said, scrupulously keeping the curtness from his voice as he gazed down at her alluring face. “Why do you ask? Is there something you want?†Her gaze fell from his, and she nodded at his frilled white shirtfront. “What is it you want?†“You.
Jealousy is the lock that closes your heart, understanding is the key that opens it.
Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more.
Jealousy is the art of injuring ourselves more than others.
Have you ever seen the stars in the night? See them closely, they will tell you, how to be open, how to love and how to shine and twinkle without any differences and jealousy of other stars.
Nature is at work.. Character and destiny are her handiwork. She gives us love and hate, jealousy and reverence. All that is ours is the power to choose which impulse we shall follow.