Quotes About Marriage

And all I want to hear are the sweetest words in the world, when he says: "Bed, Wife.

never have imagined that she would imprison a woman about to give birth for doing nothing worse than marrying the young man she loves.

Makes no difference," he said, with his intuitive knowledge of my thoughts. "No difference at all how your first marriage was. This is my marriage, and I want my wife in my bed." I laughed aloud and snuggled back into his arms. "It's where I want to be," I confessed. "Why would I ever want to be anywhere else?

But this world is changing. Perhaps by the time you are old enough to marry the world will hear a woman's voice. Perhaps she will not have to swear to obey in her wedding vows. Perhaps one day a woman will be allowed to both love and think.

As my wife you cannot refuse me. I have a right to you, as your betrothed husband. From now, till your death, you will never be able to refuse me. There can be no rape between us, only my rights and your duty.

I was near to delighted laughter because Katherine of Aragon was speaking out for the women of the country, for the good wives who should not be put aside just because their husbands had taken a fancy to another, for the women who walked the hard road between kitchen, bedroom, church and childbirth. For the women who deserved more than their husband's whim.

No," I said. "I don't think I'll ever have a fancy for a man." "Hard luck on the man who loves you," Will offered neutrally. "Very," I said. I shot a sideways look at him. "A disaster for the man who loves me," I repeated. "If he married me he would find me always cold. If he did not, he could waste his life in loving me and I would never return it.

He knew then, as she knew always, that it does not matter if a wife is half fish, if a husband is all mortal. If there is love enough, then nothing—not nature, not even death itself—can come between two who love each other.

Nowhere in the Bible does it say that marriage is a sacrament," Anne replies. "It was not God who joined us together. The priest says it was; but this is not true. This is the word of the church, not the Bible. Our wedding, like every wedding, was an act of man, not of God. It was not a holy sacrament.

Where have I offended you? I take God and all the world to witness that I have been to you a true, humble and obedient wife. These twenty years and more I have been your true wife, and by me you have had many children though it pleased God to call them out of this world. And when you had me at the first I was a true maid, without touch of man—" Henry

She can be pious, she can be learned, she can be witty and wise and beautiful, but if she is married to a fool she will be "that poor Mrs. Fool" until the day he dies.

Half the court thinks I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. All of them know that I am the wittiest and the most stylish. The king cannot take his eyes off me. Sir Thomas Wyatt has gone to France to escape me. But my sister, a year younger than me, is married and has two children by the king himself. When is it going to be my turn? When am I to be wed? Who is going to be the match for me?

It seems that we have to be married," he says, a harder note coming into his voice. "I am honored by the interest that Parliament takes in the matter. Your family still has many friends, it seems. Even among those who profess to be my friends. I understand from them that you are insisting on the wedding. I'm flattered, thank you for the attention. As we both know, we have been betrothed for two long years. So now we are going to consummate our betrothal.

The Duke of Clarence, the king's beloved brother George, is beside him looking like a true York prince, golden-haired, ready of smile, graceful even in repose, a handsome dainty copy of my husband. He is fair and well made, his bow is as elegant as an Italian dancer's, and his smile is charming. "Your Grace," he says. "My new sister. I give you joy of your surprise marriage and wish you well in your new estate.

might be that marriage was not the death of a woman and the end of her true self, but the unfolding of her. It might be that a woman could be a wife without having to cut the pride and the spirit out of herself. A woman might blossom into being a wife, not be trimmed down to fit.

on what he wants to say. I step back. So it is just as his wife fears, and she was

She prayed while you were raping me?" I ask him. "It isn't rape," he says. "Stop saying that. You're a fool to call it that. Since we're betrothed, it cannot be rape. As my wife you cannot refuse me. I have a right to you, as your betrothed husband. From now, till your death, you will never be able to refuse me. There can be no rape between us, only my rights and your duty." He

It might be that marriage was not the death of a woman and the end of her true self, but the unfolding of her. It might be that a woman could be a wife without having to cut the pride and the spirit out of herself. A woman might blossom into being a wife, not be trimmed down to fit.

God has not given this false marriage his blessing. Every year he has turned his face from me and I should have seen it earlier. The queen is not my wife, she is Arthur's wife.

A steady love, a faithful love, a wife's love is the best.

I did not need to keep the letter to remember the tone. Anna triumphant. And she was right. Nothing would be the same for any woman in this country again. From this time onward no wife, however obedient, however loving, would be safe. For everyone would know that if a wife such as Queen Katherine of England could be put aside for no reason, then any wife could be put aside.

There was I, fool that I am, thinking that you were being loving to me," he says shortly. "I thought you were touching me tenderly. I thought that our marriage vows had moved your heart. I thought that you were resting your head on my shoulder for affection. Fool that I am." I

Like many women, she was unable to fit exactly with her husband's view. Her feet hurt: she could not walk in the path of her husband's choosing. She tried to dance to please him, but she could not deny the pain. She is the ancestress of the royal house of Burgundy, and we, her descendants, still try to walk in the paths of men, and sometimes we too find the way unbearably hard.

She is frantic. But if she did not, he would see her as flawed. Ill. Incapable of bearing a child. She has to deny her loss, because he won't be married to a woman who is not perfect. She has buried a dead baby in secret and she has to look as if she is endlessly beautiful, clever, and fertile.