Happiness is the very nature of the self; happiness and the self are not different. There is no happiness in any object of the world. We imagine through our ignorance that we derive happiness from objects.
She's simply too strange. We can't relate to her, she speaks in a funny way, she comes from an odd place. So we can't relate to her, and when you can't relate to somebody, you don't envy them. The closer two people are -- in age, in background, in the process of identification -- the more there's a danger of envy, which is incidentally why none of you should ever go to a school reunion, because there is no stronger reference point than people one was at school with.
The difference between good and great lies in the details.
The truth is rarely pure and never simple.