jealousy

And what do you want?__ almost choked. __ow could you even ask me that, Henry?__e sighed. __ecause I__ thousands of miles away. Because I Skyped into your living room late one night and there__ a dude sitting next to you in the dark. Because Thanet tells me things. And Tennyson sent me a picture of you in a dress that looks like lingerie.___t__ not that bad,_ I said.__ didn__ say it was bad, Meg. It__ about a million miles from bad._ His voice was breaking with exasperation. __hings are crazy here, and I__ questioning everything.

One day of happiness is worth more than a lifetime of sorrow .... Under ordinary circumstances, jealousy is a suspicion to the person who excites it and degrading to the person who indulges it.

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

My jealousy is a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing. Like my rage and my mother's regret.

I suppose you come in here often, then,_ I say, half teasing. __ringing your maids and admirers?__agiano frowns at that. He shakes his head. __ou think I__ bedding every maid I speak to?_ he says and shrugs. __lattered, Your Majesty. But you are very wrong.___o, what you__e telling me is that you come to this secret space alone?__e tilts his head in a flirtatious way. __hat__ wrong with a thief wanting a little private time now and then?_ He comes closer. His breath warms my skin like the fog that hovers over the water. __f course, here you are. I suppose I__ not alone, after all.

Let us not look at the talents we wish we had or pine away for the gifts that are not ours but instead do the best we can with what we have.

See . . . um . . . the thing is, I met with Lisa a few days ago. She wanted to apologize for . . . Halloween, and not calling . . . Thing is, her previous story . . . um . . . She wanted me to read it. She . . . wanted to explain her issues. She was jealous . . . of you and me becoming friends and . . . kinda lost it, I guess.My point is, um . . . she used the story to put it into words . . .I think she is writing messages. . . to you.

He who makes $25,000 annually through passive income is more enviable than he who earns $100,000 annually through a salary.

If my wife finds comfort in trite Gispy homilies, I have no objection to your offering them. However, if you ever kiss her again, no matter how platonic the fashion, I'll make a eunuch of you.

Earthquakes just happen. Tornadoes just happen. Your tongue does not just happen to fall into some other girls mouth!

In cities where peace and the arts flourish, men are more consumed by jealousy, worry, and anxiety than they are in cities under the blight of a besieging army. Private sorrows are more bitter than public suffering.

You're thinking that people don't keep up old jealousies for twenty years or so. Perhaps not. Not just primitive, brute jealousy. That means a word and a blow. But the thing that rankles is hurt vanity. That sticks. Humiliation. And we've all got a sore spot we don't like to have touched.

He was smiling at her like she was something special. Did I agree with this smile? Maybe.

He beat me when you not here, I say.Who do, she say, Albert?Mr ____, I say.I can't believe it, she say. She sit down on the bench next to me real hard, like she drop.What he beat you for? she ast.For being me and not you.

She had signed her own death-warrant. He kept telling himself over and over that he was not to blame, she had brought it on herself. He had never seen the man. He knew there was one. He had known for six weeks now. Little things had told him. One day he came home and there was a cigar-butt in an ashtray, still moist at one end, still warm at the other. There were gasoline-drippings on the asphalt in front of their house, and they didn't own a car. And it wouldn't be a delivery-vehicle, because the drippings showed it had stood there a long time, an hour or more. And once he had actually glimpsed it, just rounding the far corner as he got off the bus two blocks down the other way. A second-hand Ford. She was often very flustered when he came home, hardly seemed to know what she was doing or saying at all.He pretended not to see any of these things; he was that type of man, Stapp, he didn't bring his hates or grudges out into the open where they had a chance to heal. He nursed them in the darkness of his mind. That's a dangerous kind of a man.If he had been honest with himself, he would have had to admit that this mysterious afternoon caller was just the excuse he gave himself, that he'd daydreamed of getting rid of her long before there was any reason to, that there had been something in him for years past now urging Kill, kill, kill. Maybe ever since that time he'd been treated at the hospital for a concussion.("Three O'Clock")

I was afraid it would come to this, but I have no patience with her now. I'm jealous of every moment away from the work - impatient with any one who tries to steal my time.

It's silly to think the left eye would envy the right or that one foot would be jealous of the other, and yet so often it is the case.

Be careful what you wish for. It may turn out that making the wish was the only good part.