The deepest quality of a work of art will always be the quality of the mind of the producer...No good novel will ever proceed from a superficial mind.
Henry JamesRead
My idea is this, that when you only love a little you're naturally not jealous — or are only jealous also a little, so that it doesn't matter. But when you love in a deeper and intenser way, then you're in the very same proportion jealous; your jealousy has intensity and, no doubt, ferocity.
Interpretation
Deeper love brings greater jealousy.
Henry James highlights the relationship between the depth of one's love and the intensity of jealousy that accompanies it. When love is shallow, jealousy may also be minimal and insignificant. However, as love intensifies, so too does jealousy, revealing the complexities and emotional investment involved in deep love.
In practice
In a discussion about the complexities of romantic relationships.
The deepest quality of a work of art will always be the quality of the mind of the producer...No good novel will ever proceed from a superficial mind.
What is character but the determination of incident? What is incident but the illustration of character?
Never say you know the last word about any human heart.
I adore adverbs; they are the only qualifications I really much respect.
We care what happens to people only in proportion as we know what people are.
A swift carriage, of a dark night, rattling with four horses over roads that one can’t see--that’s my idea of happiness.
Jesus wanted to show us his heart as the heart that loved so deeply. For this reason we have this commemoration today, especially of God's love. God loved us, he loved us with such great love. I am thinking of what St Ignatius told us.... He pointed out two criteria on love. The first: love is expressed more clearly in actions than in words. The second: there is greater love in giving than in receiving.
I was always sweet, at first. Oh, it's so easy to be sweet to people before you love them.
I watched her departure, as one watches a sunset. She went like a radiance through the dark wood, which was henceforth bright to me, from simply knowing that such a creature was in it.
Once I knew the depth where no hope was and darkness lay on the face of all things. Then love came and set my soul free. Once I fretted and beat myself against the wall that shut me in. My life was without a past or future, and death a consummation devoutly to be wished. But a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hands that clutched at emptiness, and my heart leaped up with the rapture of living. I do not know the meaning of the darkness, but I have learned the overcoming of it.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
Love is reducing the universe to one being.
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