She shrugged, looking as baffled by it as he felt. "I don't know. I wonder sometimes if people even know what love is anymore. Some days, when I'm watching my friends change lovers as unperturbedly as they change shoes, I think the world just got filled with too many people, and all our technological advances made things so easy that it cheapened our most basic, essential value somehow," she told him. "It's like spouses are commodities nowadays: disposable, constantly getting tossed back out for trade on the market and everyone's trying to trade up, up--like there is a 'trading up' in love." She rolled her eyes. "No way. That's not for me. I'm having one husband. I'm getting married once. When you know going in that you're staying for life, it makes you think harder about it, go slower, choose really well.

It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me; he isn’t sentimental, doesn’t say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don’t seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble hopes and impulses and purposes, and am so proud to know it’s mine. He says he feels as if he ‘could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.’ I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him while God lets us be together. Oh, Mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be when two people love and live for one another!

Villanelle for my valentineOld love, I thought I'd never see the timebecause of all we've done and often saidwhen I'd be yours, my dear, and you'd be mine.And what relief to soften, and resignthe battle of the heart over the head.old love, I thought I'd never see the timewhen qualms and cold feet that could undermineall we've held out for, dissipate insteadnow that I'm yours, my dear and you are mine.I'm still amazed how our two lives alignthe two of us! A pair! Take it as read,old love, I thought I'd never see the timeThe tangle of our jumpers in the line,the battle for the blankets in our bedconfirm that I am yours, and you are mine.So then, this is my pledge, my valentine:my hand's in yours for all that lies ahead.Oh love, there's never been a better timenow that I'm yours, and finally, you're mine.

The purpose behind your aggravating persistence eludes me, sirrah. What is it exactly that you wish to know? Lord Lucien is a fine, noble gentleman – ”“Who loves you to the point of distraction and cannot bear to think of a prolonged separation.”“A noble gentleman,” she reiterated furiously, “who – ”“Who wants something you have, and is willing to sacrifice his much prized freedom to get it.”She flushed hotly. “There may have been some consideration given to the dowry, but – ”“My lady,” the rogue laughed outright. “You are far too modest. With what you bring into the marriage you will turn Lincoln into his small, private domain. A kingdom, if you will, with a dragon on the throne and a nest of serpents writhing at his feet, eager to do his bidding.

When Stephen talked about stalking chamois his whole expression changed. The features became more aquiline, the nose sharpened, the chin narrowed, and his eyes-steel blue - somehow took on the cold brilliance of a northern sky. I am being very frank about my husband. He attracted me at those times, and he repelled me too. This man, I told myself when I first met him, is a perfectionist. And he has no compassion. Gratified like all women who find themselves sought after and desired - a mutual love for Sibelius had been our common ground at our first encounter - after a few weeks in his company I shut my eyes to further judgment, because being with him gave me pleasure. It flattered my self-esteem. The perfectionist, admired by other women, now sought me. Marriage was in every sense a coup. It was only afterwards that I knew myself deceived. ("The Chamois")

Marriage [is] not just a bond between two people but a bond between those two people and their forebears, their children, and their neighbors... Lovers must not . . . live for themselves alone. . . . They say their vows to the community as much as to one another, and the community gathers around them to hear and to wish them well, on their behalf and on its own. It gathers around them because it understands how necessary, how joyful, and how fearful this joining is. These lovers . . . are giving themselves away, and they are joined by this as no law or contract could ever join them. Lovers, then, 'die' into their union with one another as a soul 'dies' into its union with God. . . . If the community cannot protect this giving, it can protect nothing. . . . It is the fundamental connection without which nothing holds, and trust is its necessity.

يَحلم الرّجُل بِ إمّرَأةٍ كــآمِلَة!،وتَحلم المَرأة بِ رَجُلٍ كــآمِلْ!و لآ يَعْلَمُونَ أَنَّ الله خَلَقَهُم لِ يُكَمِّلا بَعْضَهُمْ البَعْضْ.

Wir alle machen unsere ersten Erfahrungen am anderen Geschlecht an unseren Eltern und Geschwistern. Die Beziehung der Eltern zueinander, die an ihnen erlebte Ehe oder sonstige Gemeinschaft, die Erfahrungen mit unseren Geschwistern formen unsere Erwartungen von Partnerschaft, Liebe und Sexualität. Hatten wir das Glück, unsere Eltern auch als Paar lieben zu können, ohne sie idealisieren zu müssen, ohne sie andererseits bedauern oder verachten, ja vielleicht hassen zu müssen; konnten wir ihre Begrenztheit, ihre Sorgen und Probleme, ihr Bemühen miterleben, aber auch ihre Freuden, ihr Zueinander-Stehen, ihr Verständnis für und ihr Vertrauen zueinander, haben wir mehr Aussichten, einen Partner zu finden, der solchen Erwartungen entspricht, und haben zugleich für unser eigenes Partner-Sein ein realisierbares Bild vorschweben.

It came as a surprise to us, as I suspect it does to many, that marriage changed us. We’d felt as though we’d always had those rings, wrapped about our fingers, like the scraggly garlands of those first, revelatory conversations. But those real rings, wooden as they were, began to set their roots, and that settling, the calming feeling of having been planted into the same plot to flourish, was a relief from that once-nagging question of loneliness. No matter what happened now, even if we’d found ourselves lonelier than we’d ever been, we’d know that that plot of land was our own to cultivate. Each moment was now a dual-moment, each of our lives a dual-life. The open road, that atlas, the open-faced moon and that wine were the first conscious recognitions of our floating life. One that perhaps we’d have created on our own, but now no longer had to.

No long-term marriage is made easily, and there have been times when I've been so angry or so hurt that I thought my love would never recover. And then, in the midst of near despair, something has happened beneath the surface. A bright little flashing fish of hope has flicked silver fins and the water is bright and suddenly I am returned to a state of love again — till next time. I've learned that there will always be a next time, and that I will submerge in darkness and misery, but that I won't stay submerged. And each time something has been learned under the waters; something has been gained; and a new kind of love has grown. The best I can ask for is that this love, which has been built on countless failures, will continue to grow. I can say no more than that this is mystery, and gift, and that somehow or other, through grace, our failures can be redeemed and blessed.

Leaning against my car after changing the oil,I hold my black hands out and stare into themas if they were the faces of my children lookingat the winter moon and thinking of the snowthat will erase everything before they wake. In the garage, my wife comes behind meand slides her hands beneath my soiled shirt.Pressing her face between my shoulder blades,she mumbles something, and soon we are laughing,wrestling like children among piles of old rags,towels that unravel endlessly, torn sheets,work shirts from twenty years ago when I stoodin the door of a machine shop, grease blackened,and Kansas lay before me blazing with new snow,a future of flat land, white skies, and sunlight.After making love, we lie on the abandonedmattress and stare at our pale winter bodiessprawling in the half-light. She touches her belly,the scar of our last child, and the black printsof my hand along her hips and thighs.

My funeral," the Blue Man said. "Look at the mourners. Some did not even know me well, yet they came. Why? Did you ever wonder? Why people gather when others die? Why people feel they should?"It is because the human spirit knows, deep down, that all lives intersect. That death doesn't just take someone, it misses someone else, and in the small distance between being taken and being missed, lives are changed."You say you should have died instead of me. But during my time on earth, people died instead of me, too. It happens every day. When lightning strikes a minute after you are gone, or an airplane crashes that you might have been on. When your colleague falls ill and you do not. We think such things are random. But there is a balance to it all. One withers, another grows. Birth and death are part of a whole."It is why we are drawn to babies . . ." He turned to the mourners. "And to funerals.

Dear Eloisa (said I) there’s no occasion for your crying so much about such a trifle. (for I was willing to make light of it in order to comfort her) I beg you would not mind it – You see it does not vex me in the least; though perhaps I may suffer most from it after all; for I shall not only be obliged to eat up all the Victuals I have dressed already, but must if Henry should recover (which however is not very likely) dress as much for you again; or should he die (as I suppose he will) I shall still have to prepare a Dinner for you whenever you marry any one else. So you see that tho perhaps for the present it may afflict you to think of Henry’s sufferings, yet I dare say he’ll die soon and then his pain will be over and you will be easy, whereas my Trouble will last much longer for work as hard as I may, I am certain that the pantry cannot be cleared in less than a fortnight

The youngest one,” she interrupted. “The youngest son, I mean. The one who is unmarried.”“I know who he is.”“Very well, then. What is wrong with him?” At that she cocked her head to the side and waited expectantly.He thought for a moment. “Nothing.”“You—wait.” She blinked. “Nothing?”He shook his head, then shifted his weight a little; his good foot was beginning to fall asleep. “Nothing comes immediately to mind.” It was true. She could do a good deal worse than Gregory Bridgerton.“Really?” she asked suspiciously. “You find nothing at all objectionable about him.”Marcus pretended to think about this a bit longer. Clearly he was supposed to be playing a role here, probably that of the villain. Or if not that, then the grumpy old man. “I suppose he’s a bit young,” he said.

Why are we bringing him along, again?" Will inquired, of the world in general as well as his sister.Cecily put her hands on her hips. "Why are you bringing Tessa?""Because Tessa and I are going to be married," Will said, and Tessa smiled; the way that Will's little sister could ruffle his feathers like no one else was still amusing to her."Well, Gabriel and I might well be married," Cecily said. "Someday."Gabriel made a choking noise, and turned an alarming shade of purple. Will threw up his hands. "You can't be married Cecily! You're only fifteen! When I get married, I'll be eighteen! An adult!"Cecily did not look impressed. "We may have a long engagement," she said. "But I cannot see why you are counseling me to marry a man my parents have never met."Will sputtered. "I am not counseling you to marry a man your parents have never met!""Then we are in agreement. Gabriel must meet Mam and Dad.