I expect we are all jealous of the women in their past, but how much less exciting if the women had not kept the bed warm.
The body's a mirror of heaven: Its energies make angels jealous. Our purity astounds seraphim. Devils shiver at our nerve.
It looks as though your shop is doing well," Luka said gazing around, "Could you help me find a gift for a lady friend of mine?" My heart plunged to my grenn satin slippers, and I had to stare down at Azarte for a minute, petting him hard. Naturally Luka had a "lady friend." She was probably nobly born: the daughter of a count or a duke. I imagined her having thick dark hair and clear skin, and was bitterly jealous. "Of course," I stammered after a time. "What would she like? A gown? A sash?" If she came in for a fitting, I decided to "accidentlly" poke her with every pin.
Jealous?" "Maybe." "No reason. I like my ladies with a pulse.
Every man or woman who loves Him, they hate Him too, because He's a hard God, a jealous God.
Exercise II. Write a diary, imagining that you are trying to make an old person jealous. I have written an example to get you started: Dear Diary, I spent the morning admiring my skin elasticity. God alive, I feel supple.
A lot of times when I buy a lot of toys, I get a little jealous and keep one or two for myself. So I've got a couple of drones. I've got a couple of remote-control cars. I like to have fun
I’ve never been jealous before I met you, it burns, luv. Like silver through my veins. Some nights, watching you with other men on your jobs, I think it will drive me mad. (Bones)
A writer, or at least a poet, is always being asked by people who should know better: “Whom do you write for?” The question is, of course, a silly one, but I can give it a silly answer. Occasionally I come across a book which I feel has been written especially for me and for me only. Like a jealous lover I don’t want anybody else to hear of it. To have a million such readers, unaware of each other’s existence, to be read with passion and never talked about, is the daydream, surely, of every author.
I've really hung in there with my BlackBerry. The main reason I like it better than an iPhone is that I can type better. I saw Rachel Zoe using a white one and I was jealous. The risk, of course, is that it could look like a Lady BIC. I've just learned to own it though.
You missed the point completely! You're acting..." The word stuck in my throat. He didn't hesitate to say it. "Jealous?" When I nodded, he continued. "Now you're missing the point. It isn't jealousy. It's fear." "Fear?" Not the emotion I expected. "Yes. Fear. I'm afraid you'll be hurt or killed. I'm afraid I won't be able to protect you. I'm afraid I'll lose you to another man.
I think your girlfriends getting Jealous," Luce said, gesturing at the pair. "Which one?" He asked. "I didn't realise they were both your girlfriends." "Neither is my girlfriend. I meant, which one did you think was my girlfriend?
I think he's jealous.
Beyond love, beyond unrequited love, perhaps even beyond any other passion known to humanity, deep, deep in the depths of the turgid, clinging, swamplike pit of despair that lies dormant within every soul, lurks JEALOUSY. Jealousy, that most demeaning and debilitating of emotions. Jealousy, which can double the strength of the love upon which it is based, but whilst doubling it, warp and pervert it, untill it is no longer recognizable as the thing of beauty it once was. Jealous love is no more like true love than Mr Hyde was like Dr Jekyll or a stagnant swamp is like a freshwater lake.
I gotta be honest with you. Im kind of jealous of the way my dad gets to talk to my mom sometimes. Where are all those old-school women you can just take your day out on? When did they stop making those angels?
I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die.
Don't be upset. Don't listen to me. I only meant that I am jealous of a dark, unconscious element, something irrational, unfathomable. I am jealous of your toilet articles, of the drops of sweat on your skin, of the germs in the air you breathe which could get into your blood and poison you. And I am jealous of Komarovsky, as if he were an infectious disease. Someday he will take you away, just as certainly as death will someday separate us. I know this must seem obscure and confused, but I can't say it more clearly. I love you madly, irrationally, infinitely.
Jealous?' Luce asked. They were alone now. She threw her arms around his broad shoulders and looked deep into his violet eyes. 'Why would you be jealous?' 'Because,' he said, rubbing his hands across her back. 'Your dance card is full. For all eternity.
I’m sorry that people are so jealous of me [Gretchen Wieners], but I can’t help it that I’m popular.
I walk through the seasons and always the birds are singing and screaming and keening for love When you're with me it seems so absurd that I should be jealous of the jay and the dove.
Write a diary, imagining that you are trying to make an old person jealous.
As I kid, I was always jealous of the music that my favorite bands had written - but not really of how they played. So I'd daydream about having written songs, and this way above being able to perform them.
I've always been jealous of people who can tell stories really well in a room with a bunch of people. I've never been good at it because I'm not cocky enough to be like, "Okay, everyone, listen right now to this. I'm going to blow your minds with this joke."
You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.
I'm kind of jealous of the life I'm supposedly leading.
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