Envy (n.) never pardons a work superior to one's own abilities: Mably could not forgive Rousseau the Social Contract.
Envy (n.) would turn upside down if we could read others' hearts: we would want to go down in the world rather than up.
Envy (n.) hates merit for not being as despicable as itself: his fellow monks hounded Father Cato until he died of grief in a cell.
Envy (n.) forgives merits it shares and never those it lacks: his friends could have pardoned his books, but not an opera none of them could have written.
Envy (n.) with covetousness and hatred makes our sensibility not merely a cipher but a minus quantity, the curse of those who feel them.
Envy (n.) blinds us to our own luck: he cursed his stars for not giving him Venture's life, when his own would have been a hundred times better had he known how to enjoy it.