Category: jealousy
Quotes of Category: jealousy
  1. Jude Watson _ Nowhere to Run

    Atticus adjusted his glasses as he peered down at the blanket. "Hey, is that the book Nellie told us about?"Jake's eyes flicked to Olivia's book. "You've got it outside in the ? Are you out of your minds?"Amy crossed her arms. "We're being careful.""It's not about careful, this is a five-hundred-year-old manuscript! You should be wearing gloves-Atticus brought some-and keeping it of the sunlight.""It didn't take you long to start barking orders!" Any exclaimed, her face flushing. "But then you always know best, don't you?""Somebody has to be mature in this situation," Jake said, his gaze flashing at Ian, who was now intently trying to brush cookie crumbs off his pants."True. In that case, we'd rather consult your little brother," Ian said with a smirk. "Medieval manuscripts are his field, am I right?""Technically, it's early Renaissance," Jake said."Thanks for the correction, my good man. Amy is right-you know best." Ian slipped his arm around Amy. "She's so perceptive. One of the many things I adore about her.""It's getting chilly. Why don't we go inside?" Amy suggested brightly as she tried to step out of the circle of Ian's arm.Ian took the opportunity to rub her shoulder. "You do feel rather cold," he said. "Let's sit by the fire. Jake, since you're so interested in proper handling, why don't you take the book?"Jake snatched up the book and furiously stomped off toward the house."You forgot to wear gloves!" Ian called after him.Amy pushed him away. "Really, Ian.""What a touchy guy," Ian said. "Frankly, I don't know what you see in him."He winced as the kitchen door slammed, then glanced at Amy's red face. "Hmmm. It might be a good time for me to take a walk.
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  2. Charlotte Brontë _ Villette

    Come, Paul!" she reiterated, her eye grazing me with its hard ray like a steel stylet. She pushed against her kinsman. I thought he receded; I thought he would go. Pierced deeper than I could endure, made now to feel what defied suppression, I cried - "My heart will break!" What I felt seemed literal heart-break; but the seal of another fountain yielded under the strain: one breath from M. Paul, the whisper, "Trust me!" lifted a load, opened an outlet. With many a deep sob, with thrilling, with icy shiver, with strong trembling, and yet with relief - I wept. "Leave her to me; it is a crisis: I will give her a cordial, and it will pass," said the calm Madame Beck. To be left to her and her cordial seemed to me something like being left to the poisoner and her bowl. When M. Paul answered deeply, harshly, and briefly - "Laissez-moi!" in the grim sound I felt a music strange, strong, but life-giving. "Laissez-moi!" he repeated, his nostrils opening, and his facial muscles all quivering as he spoke. "But this will never do," said Madame, with sternness. More sternly rejoined her kinsman - "Sortez d'ici!" "I will send for Père Silas: on the spot I will send for him," she threatened pertinaciously. "Femme!" cried the Professor, not now in his deep tones, but in his highest and most excited key, "Femme! sortez à l'instant!" He was roused, and I loved him in his wrath with a passion beyond what I had yet felt. "What you do is wrong," pursued Madame; "it is an act characteristic of men of your unreliable, imaginative temperament; a step impulsive, injudicious, inconsistent - a proceeding vexatious, and not estimable in the view of persons of steadier and more resolute character." "You know not what I have of steady and resolute in me," said he, "but you shall see; the event shall teach you. Modeste," he continued less fiercely, "be gentle, be pitying, be a woman; look at this poor face, and relent. You know I am your friend, and the friend of your friends; in spite of your taunts, you well and deeply know I may be trusted. Of sacrificing myself I made no difficulty but my heart is pained by what I see; it must have and give solace. Leave me!" This time, in the "leave me" there was an intonation so bitter and so imperative, I wondered that even Madame Beck herself could for one moment delay obedience; but she stood firm; she gazed upon him dauntless; she met his eye, forbidding and fixed as stone. She was opening her lips to retort; I saw over all M. Paul's face a quick rising light and fire; I can hardly tell how he managed the movement; it did not seem violent; it kept the form of courtesy; he gave his hand; it scarce touched her I thought; she ran, she whirled from the room; she was gone, and the door shut, in one second. The flash of passion was all over very soon. He smiled as he told me to wipe my eyes; he waited quietly till I was calm, dropping from time to time a stilling, solacing word. Ere long I sat beside him once more myself - re-assured, not desperate, nor yet desolate; not friendless, not hopeless, not sick of life, and seeking death. "It made you very sad then to lose your friend?" said he. "It kills me to be forgotten, Monsieur," I said.
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