Our envy of others devours us most of all.
Hatred is self-punishment.
Envy is not to be conquered but by death.
The envious will die, but envy never.
Hatred is a prolific vice; envy, a barren vice.
"There's little value in seeking to find reasons for why people do what they do, or feel the way they feel. Hatred is a most pernicious thing, finding root in any kind of soil. It feeds on itself." "With words."
There is not a single soul that jealousy looks good on. Nobody! It looks ugly on everybody and it makes us act ugly - it makes us act out of character.
How can we explain the perpetuity of envy--a vice which yields no return?
Revenge is not a positive state of mind or energy to indulge your self in.
Jealousy is a hell of a thing. There's a reason it's one of the deadly sins.
I warn you all, hatred is finding fertile soil within me. And in your compassion, in your every good intention, you nurture it.
hate is cancer of the soul!
The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves.
All jealousy must be strangled in its birth.
If we are full of hatred, we can't really do our work. Hatred saps all that strength and energy we need to plan.
[P]ride has no intrinsic substance, being no more than the name given to the soul devouring itself. When that loathsome perversion of love has borne its fruit, it has another, more meaningful and weightier name. We call it hatred.
There is something to that old saying that hate injures the hater, not the hated.
There's a reason why anger, fear, and hatred are paths to the dark side: they all spring from a single source - the same source as a certain flavor of love. A dangerously sweet, addictive flavor.
Hatred is the spiritual malignancy of our species, and like any other form of cancer, does its most terrible work not outwardly, but from within us.
Anger is the most useless emotion," Henchick intoned, "destructive to the mind and hurtful to the heart.
Hate, in the long run, is about as nourishing as cyanide.
This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.
Antonia was very conscious of the corrosive power of envy and felt that it was this emotion, more than any other, which lay behind human unhappiness. People did not realize how widespread envy was.
And whoever forces himself to love anybody begets a murderer in his own body.
The trouble was, my feelings for Patch weren't harmless.
