Quotes About Marriage

I choose you and I would choose you all over again. As Jane Eyre said of her Mr. Rochester, "I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blessed—blessed beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine."1

All due respect to the Resurrection, but two-becoming-one might be the greatest miracle ever.

Marriage is no place to be inordinately sensitive. We cannot prickle over every little thing. Learn to hold the biting remark, the wounded reaction, the irritated retort. Married tongues should be shredded with the amount of ugly words bitten back. Everything cannot be a big deal, because when the big deals actually happen, we're too worn-out to handle them.

Serving together revolutionized our marriage. If one is ahead, prioritize patience and nag-resistance. God isn't a wedge between spouses; if you aren't walking side by side, I believe God will wait for you both. Press Pause. Don't give the spiritual depth to your church or friends and leave housekeeping leftovers for your man. Grow together, learn together, seek together, serve together. This is the most eternal portion of your union; treat it with utmost care.

but what June had been thinking of while she searched for the right pieces, tried this one here and that one there, was how it was like a marriage, the accretion of details, of small joys and sorrows and catchphrases and hurts and rituals all adding up to a bigger picture eventually, even if it was impossible to see, while doing it, how it all fit.

I think that marriage is an amazing institution and should be preserved, and you can have great marriages, and you must because sharing your life with someone is like the greatest thing. And I loved being able to set a good example for that on television.

You never go into a marriage expecting to get divorced. You go into a marriage expecting it's going to last forever, and you have a lot of ways you dream about the future. You have all these expectations, and then you have to adjust those expectations, and it can be a very unnerving, confusing time.

Beyond the profound federal perks, married people make more money; we're healthier, physically and emotionally; we produce happier, more stable and more successful kids; we have more sex than our supposedly swinging single friends; we even live longer.

Besides, you know how I love the theater, and let's face it-a wedding is like a big show followed by a cast party.

We use celebrity "news" to perpetuate this dehumanizing view of females, focused solely on one's physical appearance, which tabloids turn into a sporting event of speculation. Is she pregnant? Is she eating too much? Has she let herself go? Is her marriage on the rocks because the camera detects some physical "imperfection"?

Marriage brings up all the things I pushed to the back burner - the fears, the mistrust, the doubts, the insecurities. It's like opening Pandora's box.

One tradition I have with my friends is that when one of us gets married, we have a ton of fragrance oils and pretty bottles at the bachelorette party. Everyone puts a drop or two in a bottle for the bride and makes a wish, and the bride wears our creation on her wedding day.

she liked to laugh that a young widow who'd just come into a good fortune must be, to misquote Jane Austen, in want of a husband.

In the past, Cameron, worrying about Ian, would go make sure that he wasn't sitting alone in a huddle, or staring for hours at a Ming bowl, or pouring over some endless mathematical exercise. These days, Cameron knew that Ian used the excuse of not liking crowds to spend more time alone with his wife – in bed.

Mac's friends had viewed his celibacy as a joke, and his brothers had thought he'd been trying to prove himself to Isabella. Proving himself had been part of it, but the truth was that Mac had not wanted another woman. Going to someone else wouldn't have been comfort, or even forgetting. Mac had lost himself when he'd married Isabella, and that was that.

A husband is exactly what you need," Mac growled. "It will keep you and my wife from running about in illegal casinos." "Mac." Ian's voice was quiet. "I'll talk to Beth alone." Mac ran his hands through his russet hair. "Sorry," he said to Beth. "I'm a little on edge. Marry him, do. We need at least one sensible person in this family.

Mrs. Ackerley," Mather said stiffly. "Have a care for your reputation. People might put it about that you're his mistress." By people, Mather likely meant himself. Before Beth could answer, Ian said quietly, "Beth is my wife.

Any other woman would have fallen over in fear when Hart turned that famous stare on her. Hart's own wife had fainted on more than one occasion when Hart had looked at her. Not Beth. She'd stood straight and tall and told Hart what she thought of him. Ian had wanted to laugh until the paintings of his illustrious ancestors rang with it. Hart needed a kick in his ass sometimes, and if Beth wanted to do it, Ian would let her.

an took one step closer to Hart. Though he kept his eyes averted, there was no mistaking the anger in his stance and his voice. "She is my wife, under my protection. The only way I will let you do anything against this marriage is if you declare me a lunatic again." Hart flushed dull red. "Ian, listen to me—" "I want her as my wife, and she stays my wife." Ian softened his voice a notch. "She is a Mackenzie now. Treat her as one.

I suppose your wife cannot be convinced to cancel it." Elliot let himself smile. "My wife is very determined." From the water, Ian laughed. It was a warm laugh, though he didn't look up from his line. "My Beth is like that." The fondness in his voice could not be clearer.

You make no sense, my lord. If you don't care about my fortune or whether I love you, why on earth do you wish to marry me?" Ian reached for the curl again as though he couldn't stop himself. "Because I want to bed you.

My dear Isabella, I will take your suggestion and show you what happens when you play with fire. I will make certain we see each other quite, quite often. And there will be no growing jaded with each other. Because you see, my dear, when I at last take you home again, it will be forever. No regrets, no games, no being 'comfortable.' We will be man and wife, in all ways, and it will be final.

He briefly wondered why the marriage ceremony bothered to contain the wife's promise to obey her husband—he hadn't met a woman yet who followed it.

Stay with me." "We're married," she whispered. "Of course I'll stay." "You could decide to leave me." "I won't." "Promise me." "I have promised. I do promise.