Like dear St. Francis of Assisi I am wedded to Poverty: but in my case the marriage is not a success.
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To keep your marriage brimming, with love in the wedding cup, whenever you're wrong, admit it; whenever you're right, shut up.
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And bigamy, sir, is a crime.'
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My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven.
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Don't lock me in wedlock, I want marriage, an encounter....
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The world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
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Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream—what is this life?
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He yaf me al the bridel in myn hand, To han the governance of hous and land, And of his tonge and his hand also;
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Black and stiff, but not a bad fit. Will you marry it?
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You know, my friends, with what a brave carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; favored old barren reason from my bed, and took the daughter of the vine to spouse.
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First, are you our sort of a person? Do you wear...
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There was an old party of Lyme Who married three wives at one time.
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I wol bistowe the flour of al myn age In th'actes and in fruit of mariage.
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Love is an ideal thing, marriage a real thing; a confusion of the real with the ideal never goes unpunished.
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They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake.
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Tamed by Miltown, we lie on Mother's bed;
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Where there's marriage without love, there will be love without marriage.
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Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.
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Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it was the only honourable provision for well-educ...
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It works, there is nothing wrong with it. You have a hole, it's a poultice....
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At fourteen I married My Lord you.
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They flaunt their conjugal felicity in one's face, as if it were the most fascinating of sins.
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Mrs. Hall, of Sherborne, was brought to bed yesterday of a dead child, some weeks before she was expected, owing to a...
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Experience, though noon auctoritee Were in this world, were right ynogh to me To speke of wo that is in mariage.
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Naked as paper to start But in twenty-five years she'll be silver, In fifty, gold.
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There is a time for all things—Except Marriage my dear.
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The aura of the theocratic death penalty for adultery still clings to America, even outside New England, and multiple divorce, which looks to the European like serial polygamy, is the moral solution to the problem of the itch. Love comes into it too, of course, but in Europe we tend to see marital love as an eternity which encompasses hate and also indifference: when we promise to love we really mean that we promise to honor a contract. Americans, seeming to take marriage with not enough seriousness, are really taking love and sex with too much.
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The ritual of marriage is not simply a social event; it is a crossing of threads in the fabric of fate. Many strands bring the couple and their families together and spin their lives into a fabric that is woven on their children.
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A funeral is not death, any more than baptism is birth or marriage union. All three are the clumsy devices, coming now too late, now too early, by which Society would register the quick motions of man.
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your old fashioned tirade— loving, rapid, merciless— breaks like the Atlantic Ocean on my head.
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