Quotes About Marriage

I decided to let him have his delusion of always being right. Marriage requires many such moments.

he would not love her, not with the sort of passion to be found in the myths of old. Marriage was about duty and loyalty. Love was something else altogether.

bloody Married Women's Property Act.

Did she not have it all, the beauty, the brains, the breeding, the brilliant marriage? Yet I felt a tangible sadness lurking within…

You and I have never shared a bank account or a child or a bed. But you are my wife.

Marriage is between two people. There is no studio audience.

A marriage is more than your heart, it's your life. And we are not sharing ours.

It was a wonderful feeling to be grown and yet young. To be married but not settled. To be tied down yet free.

Yes," she said, but she seemed confused. "I never thought you did it. I know who I married." "Georgia," I said. "I know who I married, too. You're in me. When I touch you, your flesh communicates with my bones. You think I can't feel how sad you are?" "I'm scared," she said, her fingers transmitting a miserable willingness. "It's hard to start over.

I know who I married, too. You're in me. When I touch you, your flesh communicates with my bones.

As for me, I'm modern and traditional at the same time. I, too, believe in intimacy—who doesn't? But I also believe in commitment. Marriage is, as she says, "a peculiar institution." My parents' divorce made it clear what kinds of raw deals are brokered at the altar. But right now, in America, marriage is the closest thing to what I want.

She swiveled and we kissed like teenagers, making out under the bridge. It was a wonderful feeling to be grown and yet young. To be married but not settled. To be tied down yet free.

None of this proposing via billboard or at halftime at the Rose Bowl. Marriage is between two people. There is no studio audience.

Did I imagine that this was our pattern for all time? That we could grow old together, accusing and forgiving? Back then, I dind't know what forever looked like. Maybe I don't even know now. But that night in Piney Woods, I believed that our marriage was a fine-spun tapestry, fragile but fixable. We tore it often and mended it, always with a silken thread, lovely but sure to give way.

I believed that our marriage was a fine-spun tapestry, fragile but fixable. We tore it often and mended it, always with a silken thread, lovely but sure to give way.

I fully believed that I would leave the courtroom with my husband beside me. Secure in our home, we would tell people how no black man is really safe in America.

In my marriage, I never determined which of us was rootstock and which the grafted branch.

she hit upon the three things she says a woman needs: Jesus, a job, and a husband.

but in my marriage to Roy, I felt blessed in the old-fashioned sense, in the way that anyone would be in finding someone whose smell you enjoyed.

Daddy said, "At some point you will come to accept your limitations." "Do you accept yours?" I asked, with challenge in my voice. "But of course, Ladybug. That's what marriage teaches you.

You would have been crazy for my ex-husband," Gwen told her once, as Willie Mae pulled the straightening comb, sizzling with grease. "Is he still available?" Mother chuckled and took a drag from her cigarette, catching the smoke with a damp towel. "He was available the whole time I was married to him.

You could marry somebody else." I hardly got the words out. "It's legal." "When I want somebody else, I'll find somebody else," Big Roy said. "But if all I want is a meal, then I'll cook.

I did wonder what was going on inside my body, but I won't say what I hoped for. Is motherhood really optional when you're a perfectly normal woman married to a perfectly normal man?

It was as though they wanted to say: Look how tolerant and liberal we are! This African is just like one of us! He has married a daughter of ours and works with us on an equal footing! If only you knew, this sort of European is no less evil than the madmen who believe in the supremacy of the white man in South Africa and in the southern states of America. The same exaggerated emotional energy bears either to the extreme right or to the extreme left.