Quotes About Marriage

A wife who desires to successfully communicate with her husband must encrypt every word to him with this tone: You are a good man. I'm proud of you, and I'm so proud to be your wife. You have what it takes, and I believe in you. When words to him are spoken with that tone, it meets his deepest need for honor as it values and comforts him.

need to say something like this to our spouses if there is going to be a genuine atmosphere of truth and openness: "Honey, I want to be the best spouse I can be, and I want our marriage to grow. I want you to know that if there is anything I'm doing or not doing that is bothering you, I want you to share it with me. I may not agree with everything you say, but I will validate it, and we will talk things out.

The same is true for wives. How do you know you are a good wife unless your husband tells you that you are? If you are defensive and feel threatened by your husband's input, you won't meet his needs and won't fulfill your role in his life. Let him tell his truth to you without losing his dignity. Let him know that he is your number one priority in life, except for Jesus, and being a good wife to him is one of your highest goals in life.

Therefore, for needs to be met and mutual satisfaction to be achieved in any marriage, one element must be present in both spouses—a servant spirit.

Katie shook her head in dismay. "I thought being poor was the worst thing that could happen to a girl." "No, Katie," the countess said in a clear voice. "The worst thing is to be in love with one man and have to marry another." —Katie O'Reilly to the Countess of Marbury

Once when I asked you if you still loved your wife, you said, Love leaves the back door open. Later, you said, Love like a hospital gown opens at the back. And you slipped out.

Marriage is memory, marriage is time. Marriage is not only time: it is also, parodoxically, the denial of time.

In fact I had no idea how to be a wife.

Marriage is not only time: it is also, parodoxically, the denial of time. For forty years I saw myself through John's eyes. I did not age.

It seemed that the marriage had reached the traditional truce, the point at which so many resign themselves to cutting both their losses and their hopes.

We closed the deal and moved to New York. Where in fact I had lived before, from the time I was twenty-one and just out of the English Department at Berkeley and starting work at Vogue (a segue so profoundly unnatural that when I was asked by the Condé Nast personnel department to name the languages in which I was fluent I could think only of Middle English) until I was twenty-nine and just married.

you can love more than one person." Of course you can, but marriage is something different. Marriage is memory, marriage is time.

It is impossible to think of Howard Hughes without seeing the apparently bottomless gulf between what we say we want and what we do want, between what we officially admire and secretly desire, between, in the largest sense, the people we marry and the people we love.

This is my attempt to make sense of the period that followed, weeks and then months that cut loose any fixed idea I had ever had about death, about illness, about probability and luck, about good fortune and bad, about marriage and children and memory, about grief, about the ways in which people do and do not deal with the fact that life ends, about the shallowness of sanity, about life itself

Marriage is memory, marriage is time. Marriage is not only time: it is also, paradoxically, the denial of time. For forty years I saw myself through John's eyes. I did not age.

My brother refers to my husband, in his presence, as "Joan's husband." Marriage is the classic betrayal.

Marriage is not only time: it is also, paradoxically, the denial of time. For forty years I saw myself through John's eyes. I did not age. This year for the first time since I was twenty-nine I saw myself through the eyes of others. This year for the first time since I was twenty-nine I realized that my image of myself was of someone significantly younger.

The apparently bottomless gulf between what we say we want and why we do want, between what we officially admire and secretly desire, between, in the largest sense, the people we marry and the people we love.

At the end of the entry Musgrave noted without comment, "Tenth anniversary of my marriage." For once, he left his deep distress undescribed.

I can't understand people being rude to their spouses. Your husband or wife should be the one person in the world you treat with loving patience. He or she chose you above all others-for a lifetime! And yet I see women who are nicer to their girlfriends, and men who are more thoughtful toward their employees. That's meshuganeh. Friends come and go. Employees move on. Your partner is there for the long haul. He deserves your best every day of your life.

How did that blessing for newlyweds go? May your joys be multiplied and your sorrows divided.

Men succeed. Women get married. Men fail. Women get married. Men enter monasteries. Women get married. Men start wars. Women get married. Men stop them. Women get married.

She marched to the door and said, if I ever marry, Patrick O'Sullivan, I shall make sure that my mate for life is a decent woman, or even, maybe, a book.

Sexiness wears thin after awhile and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that is a treat.