Plain women are always jealous of their husbands. Beautiful women never are. They are always so occupied with being jealous of other women's husbands.

Never waste jealousy on a real man: it is the imaginary man that supplants us all in the long run.

Live on doubts; it becomes madness or stops entirely as soon as we pass from doubt to certainty.

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.