When a man thinks too much of himself, this imagination is termed pride and is a species of delirium, because he dreams with his eyes open that he can do all those things to which he attains in imagination alone, regarding them thus as realities and rejoicing in them so long as he cannot imagine anything to exclude their existence and limit his power of action. I say passage, for joy is not perfection itself. For, that sorrow consists in the passage to a less perfection, but not in the less perfection itself, no one can deny, since in so far as a man partakes of any perfection he cannot be sad. Nor can we say that sorrow consists in the passage to a less perfection, for privation is nothing. As for the definitions of cheerfulness, pleasurable excitement, melancholy or grief, I omit these, because they are related rather to the body than to the mind, and are merely different species of joy and sorrow.
Love is joy, with the accompanying idea of an external cause.
Hatred is sorrow, with the accompanying idea of an external cause. Devotion is love towards an object which we admire and wonder at. Derision, is joy arising from the imagination that something we despise is present in the object we hate. Hope is a joy not constant, arising from the idea of something future or past, about the issue of which we are doubtful. Fear is sorrow not constant, arising in like manner.