Marriage License Quotes

It's weird, marriage. It's like this license that gives a person the legal right to control their spouse / their 'other half.

Even when all the paperwork-a marriage license, a notarized deed, two birth certificates, and seven years of tax returns-clearly indicates you're an adult, but all the same, there you are, clutching the phone and thanking God that you're still somebody's daughter.

Laurel: I don't need a ring or a license, or a spetacular white dress. It's not marriage so much, or at all really, that matters. It's the promise. It's the knowing someone wants me to be part of his life. Someone loves me, that I'm the one for him. That's not just enough, it's everything.

A marriage license is not a medical license, Dr. Croft. I am still hopeful I may obtain both.

We're getting a marriage license and I will marry you right then and there in front of the judge. That doesn't scare me. Diapers scare me. But spending my life with you doesn't scare me. Not one bit.

While we’re driving, the passengers like to blather on and on about God knows what, unaware that I’m busy grouping and transforming numbers on license plates into letters

Hi Kate! We went to get marriage license! Who’s we? Your Father and I. Well I hope you’ll be very happy together.

Simon feared that marriage licensing could be suspended without warning, and that cops, lawyers, homophobic protesters might show up to spoil everything. “Torschlusspanik,” Simon said. “Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll bite.” “Don’t encourage him,” Ant said. “What’s Torschlusspanik?” Sam said. “It means ‘gate-shut panic,’ ” Simon said. “It’s the fear that time is running out and that you’re going to miss an opportunity. Literally, the gate is closing, and you’ll never get in.” “That’s me,” Sam said. “I have that constantly.

Despite their marriage license and four children, black couples were not permitted to live as man and wife on the Reservation.

If only marriage licenses came with a buyer's remorse clause. ~Detective Mike Malone

If marriage licenses were like driver's licenses, only to be extended every two years if both parties agreed, life would be less complicated and people happier.

I don't know if it was the excitement that did it, but by the time we started our tiptoe across the icy, rutted skid yard to that shed Priya had quit shivering, but I was trembling like a marriage license in a young man's hand.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man and woman in possession of a false marriage license must be in want of separate beds. Unfortunately, when Daniel and Alice entered their suite in Starkthorn Manor, they found only one—which quite frankly would not have come as a surprise had they read more exciting literature than was their habit.

Our marriage lasted a few months. Once you left, what remained faded faster than the ink on the license. And what's left..well, it could blow away in one tiny puff of wind." "Well,then." he spoke with an air of certainty. "I'll try not to exhale." "Don't bother. I stopped holding my breath years before.

But if man, as in our society, advances only towards physical love, even though he surrounds it with deceptions and with the shallow formality of marriage, he obtains nothing but licensed vice.

In all honesty, men changed a few rules when they became what was referred to as househusbands. Bill didn't make beds, cook, dust, do laundry, windows or floors, or give birth. What he did do was pay bills, call people to fix the plumbing, handle the investments and taxes, volunteer big time, take papers to the garage, change license plates, get the cars serviced, and pick up the cleaning. If women had had that kind of schedule, who knows, we'd probably still be in the home.

A marriage license is not a medical license

So den we gittee married by de license, but I doan love my wife no mo' wid de license than I love her befo' de license. She a good woman and I love her all de time. (Oluale Kossula)

The next morning he drove the stranger’s car half way to the Registry of Motor Vehicles before he realized he could not apply for a driver’s license. He suddenly realized he had left his name at the prison.

The marriage license itself is lost, but a separate document, the marriage bond, survives. On it Anne Hathaway is correctly identified. Shakespeare’s name is rendered as “Shagspere”—the first of many arrestingly variable renderings.

I prefer Ms. because it is similar to Mr. A man is Mr. whether married or not, a woman is Ms. whether married or not. So please teach Chizalum that in a truly just society, women should not be expected to make marriage-based changes that men are not expected to make. Here’s a nifty solution: Each couple that marries should take on an entirely new surname, chosen however they want as long as both agree to it, so that a day after the wedding, both husband and wife can hold hands and joyfully journey off to the municipal offices to change their passports, driver’s licenses, signatures, initials, bank accounts, etc.

Don't imagine it would be the usual kind of marriage." He seemed to withdraw even more. "It needn't even be consummated. Any woman I liked we'll enough to marry doesn't deserve to be saddled to me. If we marry, it will be a quiet wedding by special license in a back room. At the end, we'll go our separate ways--you, to your farm, and me..." He looked around the small room at the messy piles of paper. "I'm not offering to make a life with you. I'm merely giving you the chance to make your child legitimate. Nothing more." He watched her, his eyes hooded and wary. And deep inside... She had no notion as to what to say. She let out a long breath. "Oh, you are romantic.

After our interviews we examined whether this spoke to a larger trend. In 1932 a sociologist at the University of Pennsylvania named James Bossard looked through five thousand consecutive marriage licenses on file for people who lived in the city of Philadelphia. Whoa: One-third of the couples who got married had lived within a five-block radius of each other before they got married. One out of six had lived within the same block. Most amazingly, one of every eight married couples had lived in the same building before they got married.

I can see that he wants to laugh but the expression on my face stops him. “We have no women drivers.” “You do now.” Honestly, I’m so tired of this bullshit. I can’t have a byline because I’m a woman. I can’t apply for a marriage license on my own because I’m a woman. I can’t drive an ambulance because I’m a woman.

I don’t need all the fuss, all the details, all the trimmings. All, essentially, that we do here. Emma does, and Parker will, and God knows Mac’s gotten into it.” “She has, and I think it’s been a surprise to her.” “But I don’t. I don’t need a ring or a license, or a spectacular white dress. It’s not marriage so much, or at all really, that matters. It’s the promise. It’s the knowing someone wants me to be part of his life. Someone loves me, that I’m the one for him. That’s not just enough, it’s everything.

Nature has a way Of not caring much About marriage Licenses and such

Liz pasted on a smile, trying to appear normal in light of the fact that he had possibly incriminating knowledge on her from the background check. She hoped her application for a marriage license with Craig wasn't in the report. Or her long shopping record for organization systems from The Container Store. Or her many Internet searches for breeds of nonshedding dogs (she was waiting for the house with a yard before getting one). Or her long-time obsession with new cleaning products.

For in marriage a little license, a little independence there must be between people living together day in day out in the same house; which Richard gave her and she him. (...) But with Peter everything had to be shared; everything gone into. And it was intolerable (...).

There can have been no doubt in Eleanor's mind as to what was expected of her as a wife. In her day, women were supposed to be chaste both inside and outside marriage, virginity and celibacy being highly prized states. When it came to fornication, women were usually apportioned the blame, because they were the descendants of Eve, who had tempted Adam in the Garden of Eden, with such dire consequences. Women, the Church taught, were the weaker vessel, the gateway to the Devil, and therefore the source of all lechery. St. Bernard of Clairvaux wrote: "To live with a woman without danger is more difficult than raising the dead to life." Noblewomen, he felt, were the most dangerous so fall. Women were therefore kept firmly in their place in order to prevent them from luring men away from the paths of righteousness. Promiscuity--and its often inevitable consequence, illicit pregnancy--brought great shame upon a woman and her family, and was punishable by fines, social ostracism, and even, in the case of aristocratic and royal women, execution. Unmarried women who indulged in fornication devalued themselves on the marriage market. In England, women who were sexually experienced were not permitted to accuse men of rape in the King's court. Female adultery was seen as a particularly serious offence, since it jeopardized the laws of inheritance. Men, however, often indulged in casual sex and adultery with impunity. Because the virtue of high-born women was jealously guarded, many men sought sexual adventures with lower-class women. Prostitution was common and official brothels were licensed and subject to inspection in many areas. There was no effective contraception apart from withdrawal, and the Church frowned upon that anyway: this was why so many aristocratic and royal bastards were born during this period.

In every age a general misdirection of what may be called sexual "taste"... [is] produce[d by the devil and his angels]. This they do bu working through the small circle of artists, dressmakers, actresses, and advertisers who determine the fashionable type. The aim is to guide each sex away from those members of the other with whom spiritually helpful, happy, and fertile marriages are most likely. Thus [they] have now for many centuries triumphed over nature to the extent of making certain secondary characteristics of the male (such as the beard) disagreeable to nearly all the females-and there is more in that than you might suppose. As regards the male taste [they] have varied a good deal. At one time [they] have directed it to the statuesque and aristocratic type of beauty, mixing men's vanity with their desires and encouraging the race to breed chiefly from the most arrogant and prodigal women. At another, [they] have selected an exaggeratedly feminine type, faint and languishing, so that folly and cowardice, and all the general falseness and littleness of mind which go with them, shall be at a premium. At present [they] are on the opposite tack. The age of jazz has succeeded the age of the waltz, and [they] now teach men to like women whose bodies are scarcely distinguishable from those of boys. Since this is a kind of beauty even more transitory than most, [they] thus aggravate the female's chronic horror of growing old (with many [successful] results) and render her less willing and less able to bear children. And that is not all. [They] have engineered a great increase in the license which society allows to the representation of the apparent nude (not the real nude) in art, and its exhibition on the stage or the bathing beach. It is all a fake, or course; the figures in the popular art are falsely drawn; the real women in bathing suits or tights are actually pinched in and propped up to make them to appear firmer and more slender and more boyish than nature allows a full-grown woman to be. Yet at the same time, the modern world is taught to believe that it is being "frank" and "healthy" and getting back to nature. As a result [they] are more and more directing the desires of men to something which does not exist-making the role of the eye in sexuality more and more important and at the same time making its demands more and more impossible.

This had to be Finn Dalton’s mother. It simply had to be. From the moment Nash had given Carrie what seemed like the impossible assignment of interviewing Finn, she’d looked for out-of-the-box ways to locate him. Her mother’s mention of work on the Alaskan pipeline and that many of those employed came from Washington State had led to a breakthrough. At least she hoped so. The search led Carrie to the birth record for a Finnegan Paul Dalton, not in Alaska but in her own birth state of Washington. That record revealed his mother’s name—Joan Finnegan Dalton—which then led to a divorce decree, along with a license for a second marriage several years later. Tax records indicated that Joan, whose married name was now Reese, continued to reside in Washington State. Her hope was that Joan Dalton Reese would be willing to help Carrie find Finn.

Anti-voting lawmakers perhaps weren’t intending to make it harder for married white women to vote, but that’s exactly what they did by requiring an exact name match across all forms of identification in many states in recent years. Birth certificates list people’s original surnames, but if they change their names upon marriage, their more recent forms of ID usually show their married names. Sandra Watts is a married white judge in the state of Texas who was forced to use a provisional ballot in 2013 under the state’s voter ID law. She was outraged at the imposition: “Why would I want to vote provisional ballot when I’ve been voting regular ballot for the last forty-nine years?” Like many women, she included her maiden name as her middle name when she took her husband’s last name—and that’s what her driver’s license showed. But on the voter rolls, her middle name was the one her parents gave her at birth, which she no longer used. And like that, she lost her vote—all because of a law intended to suppress people like Judge Watts’s fellow Texan Anthony Settles, a Black septuagenarian and retired engineer. Anthony Settles was in possession of his Social Security card, an expired Texas identification card, and his old University of Houston student ID, but he couldn’t get a new photo ID to vote in 2016 because his mother had changed his name when she remarried in 1964. Several lawyers tried to help him track down the name-change certificate in courthouses, to no avail; his only recourse was to go to court for a new one, at a cost of $250. Elderly, rural, and low-income voters are more likely not to have birth certificates or to have documents containing clerical errors. Hargie Randell, a legally blind Black Texan who couldn’t drive but who had a current voter registration card used before the new Texas law, had to arrange for people to drive him to the Department of Public Safety office three times, and once to the county clerk’s office an hour away, only to end up with a birth certificate that spelled his name wrong by one letter.

Lynum had plenty of information to share. The FBI's files on Mario Savio, the brilliant philosophy student who was the spokesman for the Free Speech Movement, were especially detailed. Savio had a debilitating stutter when speaking to people in small groups, but when standing before a crowd and condemning his administration's latest injustice he spoke with divine fire. His words had inspired students to stage what was the largest campus protest in American history. Newspapers and magazines depicted him as the archetypal "angry young man," and it was true that he embodied a student movement fueled by anger at injustice, impatience for change, and a burning desire for personal freedom. Hoover ordered his agents to gather intelligence they could use to ruin his reputation or otherwise "neutralize" him, impatiently ordering them to expedite their efforts. Hoover's agents had also compiled a bulging dossier on the man Savio saw as his enemy: Clark Kerr. As campus dissent mounted, Hoover came to blame the university president more than anyone else for not putting an end to it. Kerr had led UC to new academic heights, and he had played a key role in establishing the system that guaranteed all Californians access to higher education, a model adopted nationally and internationally. But in Hoover's eyes, Kerr confused academic freedom with academic license, coddled Communist faculty members, and failed to crack down on "young punks" like Savio. Hoover directed his agents to undermine the esteemed educator in myriad ways. He wanted Kerr removed from his post as university president. As he bluntly put it in a memo to his top aides, Kerr was "no good." Reagan listened intently to Lynum's presentation, but he wanted more--much more. He asked for additional information on Kerr, for reports on liberal members of the Board of Regents who might oppose his policies, and for intelligence reports about any upcoming student protests. Just the week before, he had proposed charging tuition for the first time in the university's history, setting off a new wave of protests up and down the state. He told Lynum he feared subversives and liberals would attempt to misrepresent his efforts to establish fiscal responsibility, and that he hoped the FBI would share information about any upcoming demonstrations against him, whether on campus or at his press conferences. It was Reagan's fear, according to Lynum's subsequent report, "that some of his press conferences could be stacked with 'left wingers' who might make an attempt to embarrass him and the state government." Lynum said he understood his concerns, but following Hoover's instructions he made no promises. Then he and Harter wished the ailing governor a speedy recovery, departed the mansion, slipped into their dark four-door Ford, and drove back to the San Francisco field office, where Lynum sent an urgent report to the director. The bedside meeting was extraordinary, but so was the relationship between Reagan and Hoover. It had begun decades earlier, when the actor became an informer in the FBI's investigation of Hollywood Communists. When Reagan was elected president of the Screen Actors Guild, he secretly continued to help the FBI purge fellow actors from the union's rolls. Reagan's informing proved helpful to the House Un-American Activities Committee as well, since the bureau covertly passed along information that could help HUAC hold the hearings that wracked Hollywood and led to the blacklisting and ruin of many people in the film industry. Reagan took great satisfaction from his work with the FBI, which gave him a sense of security and mission during a period when his marriage to Jane Wyman was failing, his acting career faltering, and his faith in the Democratic Party of his father crumbling. In the following years, Reagan and FBI officials courted each other through a series of confidential contacts. (7-8)

The problem was revealed most clearly by the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts in the recent Goodridge case, the case in which the Court in effect overturned the traditional laws of marriage and installed same-sex marriage. Quite central to the argument of the majority of four judges in that case was the insistence that procreation is not a requirement of marriage, and that the laws on marriage “do not privilege procreative heterosexual intercourse between married people above every other form of adult intimacy.” But the Court opened itself here to more than it realized, for by the same reasoning one may say that marriage should be open to uncles and nieces, father and daughters, who happen to be sterile and intimate. Or to the man willing to have a vasectomy in order to marry his mother? And yet, more than that: if people of the same sex may marry, why would the arrangement not be open to a father and son? We have seen cases of incest, as bizarre as they may seem, just as we’ve seen things as odd as the fellow in Maine who sought a license to marry his dog, or the fellow in Denver a few years ago who sought to marry his horse. The impulse is there, and once again it matters not at all in principle that these are rare cases. Until recently it has been rare to see people of the same sex wishing to marry. The fact that there may only be a handful of cases does not relieve us of the need to explain the grounds of principle on which we would deny these claims of marriage—once we move out of that framework of marriage as a union between a man and a woman.

A marriage license is not a license for a husband to rape his wife with impunity. Rape is a terrifying and humiliating experience that no woman asks for. Section 357 of the criminal code states that any person who has unlawful carnal knowledge of a woman or girl, without her consent, or with her consent, if the consent is obtained by force or by means of threats or intimidation of any kind, or by fear of harm, or by means of false and fraudulent representation as to the nature of the act, or, in the case of a married woman, by personating her husband, is guilty of an offence which is called rape.

A mob stormed the apartment and threw the family’s furniture out of a third-floor window as the crowds cheered below. The neighbors burned the couple’s marriage license and the children’s baby pictures. They overturned the refrigerator and tore the stove and plumbing fixtures out of the wall. They tore up the carpet. They shattered the mirrors. They bashed in the toilet bowl. They ripped out the radiators. They smashed the piano Clark had worked overtime to buy for his daughter. And when they were done, they set the whole pile of the family’s belongings, now strewn on the ground below, on fire.

BECKONED to the square to listen to a representative of the Virginia Company of London. He seemed an unpretentious man, a clerk, if you will, who had some important points to make before the Jamestown colonists started mingling with the new members. The man stepped up on a makeshift wooden box and spoke to the good people gathered for the day’s celebration. As he looked out at the more delicate gender, he released a sigh of satisfaction. The bride ship had come through, and it was hoped these ninety women would secure the colony’s growth. The clerk waved a document in the air and the crowd hushed, anxious to hear what he would say. “Each woman,” he called out, to reach the hearing of those standing furthest away. “Each woman, upon entering into marriage with a man of Jamestown, will receive as promised, one new apron, two new pairs of shoes, six pairs of sheets…” He droned on, reciting the promises made by the Virginia Company of London. As each new item was listed, gasps of delight flickered in the air. The gifting lent the day even more enjoyment for these items were needed to set up a good home and many of the women were arriving with few possessions. The representative talked at length about marriage licenses and how each couple would be married, one after the other, until all were satisfied. When all was said, and done, there would be a lot of paperwork, but these contracts were the foundation of the colony, the building blocks that would ensure the birth of children on this new soil. It wasn’t just the Virginia Company of London who wanted the population to grow in the colony, it was also the wish of Scarlett. These people who would be her neighbours, these men who would make business deals with her husband, these children who would grow by her child’s side, were the herd. From these people, would she harvest, and as they prospered, so would she.

Love is not the foundation for marriage, people normally get married to someone they think, they are in love with. Can I say to you that love does not make marriage work, don't be fooled by that funny feeling, don't get married because you love someone. I love aircraft but I can't fly them, I failed two times my pilot license, I love cars but I failed two times in the driving school made it on the third time. I love diving but not yet ready to go to diving school. You can love something and still don't know how to do it. So love is not the problem but the knowledge. I still maintain love doesn't make marriage work but knowledge and understanding. . Acquire enough knowledge before going into it.

Most people's car last longer than their marriage. WHY? For instance in Germany, the government made it as a law that before you are qualified to drive a car, you will go to a driving school, learn the theory and practical before getting a license to drive. Same is applicable to your car, it must go to service and maintenance every two years if it is a new one to check if the car is still road worthy. If your car is above five years old then it must go to service every year. So this makes the car last longer. For you to get a driving licence in germany it takes months but for you to take a marriage certificate in Germany it doesn't take two hours. Once you go on the vail, they give you licence which means that they are more concerned about your car on their street than they are about your life in their communities. A lot of people doesn't go to any driving lessons on marriages. So they end up knowing how to drive a car but not learning how to live with someone.

Taking her hands in his, he sank down to kneel before her. “I know we already are engaged, but I never went about it properly. Lydia Price, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” Gasps permeated the room as Vincent reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out a small jewel case. He flicked the box open to reveal a golden ring filigreed with Celtic knots and adorned with a large diamond surrounded by a rainbow of other jewels. Lydia’s heart lodged in her throat even as unmitigated happiness warmed her body. “When?” The word escaped aloud before she was aware. “Now.” From another pocket in his waistcoat, Vincent withdrew a small sheaf of papers. “I have with me a marriage contract and a special license. I’ve also managed to procure a parson at this late hour.” Everyone’s gazes flew to the stranger, whose identity was now revealed. The parson yawned as if in emphasis of the inconvenience. All eyes shifted to Lydia, awaiting her reply. Her knees quaked beneath her gown, threatening to give out and topple her. “Please, Lydia,” he said achingly. “I cannot bear another night of you not being mine.” “Yes.” The word escaped her lips past the joy swelling within. As if afraid she’d change her mind, Vincent quickly slipped the elaborate ring on her third finger and rose to his feet, retaining his grip on her hand. “You’ve made me the happiest of men,” he replied.

long as it doesn’t involve a ring or a marriage license.

the suspicion of science is not based in actual Christian belief. My congregation full of educators and scientists disproves that. But the bumper sticker is an accurate summary of what too many people think Christians actually believe. It gets worse. During the months I wrote this book Kim Davis, the Kentucky county clerk who refused to issue same-sex marriage licenses, sat in jail for contempt of court. On social media, television, and in the newspaper, outraged Christian leaders proclaimed that she was a victim of religious persecution and that Christians in this country are under attack. At the same time conservative Christians ranted that Starbucks had declared a war on Christmas by not writing “Merry Christmas” on their plain red coffee cups. And all the while, Christian governors across the country attempted to close their states’ borders to Syrian refugees.

blockchain technology records financial transactions made with digital currencies such as Bitcoin, it will in the future serve as a registrar for things as different as birth and death certificates, titles of ownership, marriage licenses, educational degrees, insurance claims, medical procedures and votes

On the Thursday before the big Saturday, the happy couple trekked to the Maryland county seat of Rockland, only to learn that a forty-eight-hour waiting period was required before they could obtain a marriage license—and the office was not open on the weekend.

The field is fast approaching the level of license one saw in the late four hundreds BC. Votes for women, minimum wage, gay marriage, cats and dogs living together—mass hysteria.

But Meera wasn't waiting for a Mr. Darcy or a Joe Fox. In fact, she did not want to marry at all. She thought of marriage as a license for two people to have sex and produce babies. Not that she did not believe in love, but the world of matrimony was too small for her. You meet someone, marry him, have a family, and life is over, so she thought.

Some grandchildren you get with a birth certificate. Some you get with a marriage license. It’s all just worthless paper. What’s in the heart is what matters,

(From Write Off) If only marriage licenses came with a buyer's remorse clause.

Eugenicists weren't just about propaganda, they catalyzed significant political action. As early as 1896 the state of Connecticut passed a eugenic law according to which anyone who was epileptic, imbecile, or feeble-minded could not obtain a marriage license.

what it meant.” “That’s fine.” Bosch moved to the drawer and looked in. There were two thin manila files and two packs of envelopes with rubber bands holding them together. The first file he looked through contained Eno’s birth certificate, passport, marriage license and other personal records. He put it back in the drawer. The next file contained LAPD forms and Bosch quickly recognized them as the pages and reports that had been removed from the Marjorie Lowe murder book. He knew he had no time to read them at the moment and put the file in the beer box with the other files. The rubber band on the first package of envelopes snapped when he tried to remove it and he was reminded of the band that had been around the blue binder that contained the case files. Everything about this case was old and ready to snap, he thought. The envelopes were all from a Wells Fargo Bank branch in Sherman Oaks and each one contained a statement for a savings account in the name of McCage

Jase performed an impromptu ceremony that night, and with the marriage license signed and in hand, their car squealed out of the apartment complex a few minutes later. The four of us kept their marriage a secret, even during their big wedding the following Saturday night. I often said to Jase after our apartment cleared out at night, “Boy, if these walls could talk.” To say that our first five years together were intensely devoted to ministry is not an understatement. At one point, we had groups in our home every night of the week, and that went on for months. We thrived on knowing that every day of our lives was filled with spiritual purpose, but there came a point when we knew we were ready for more.

So you are done proposing?” Dev sipped his drink. “I am. I forgot to propose for the one reason that might have won the prize.” “That being?” “She loves me.” Westhaven smiled wistfully. “She cannot bear to think of the rest of her life without me.” “That reason.” Dev nodded sagely. “I will remember that one, as it would not have occurred to me either. Do you think it will occur to Anna?” “I hope to God it does.” The earl took a long pull of his drink. “I cannot make a move at this point unless she invites it.” “Why not? Why not just ride out there, special license in hand, and lay down the law? You haven’t tried that approach. You can name it after me, the Devlin St. Just Proposal of Marriage Option Number Seven.” “Dev, I fear you are getting a bit foxed.” “A bit, and I am not even the one trying to drown my sorrows. Am I not the best of brothers?” “The very best,” the earl agreed, his smile carrying a wealth of affection.

Getting married means that your relationship is no longer a private affair since a marriage license converts it into a contract with three parties: two spouses and the state. Once you’re in it you have to get the permission of a judge to let you out. And what you learn when you seek judicial permission to end a marriage is that it’s a lot easier to get married than it is to get divorced (121)

My world is so huge right now—when a Wide Iwish Rose puts her arms around my neck and calls me a silly daddy, my heart almost doesn’t fit in my chest. That Rosie—she isn’t just an idea. She’s more than I could have imagined if my imagination had gone into overdrive.” Franci was quiet for a moment. Then she put a spoonful of ice cream to his lips. “I know,” she said. “You’ve turned yourself into a wonderful silly daddy.” He swallowed the ice cream. “I need you to forgive me for the man I was… If you can.” “I forgave you when I saw you with our daughter. It’s all different now.” “I know I suggested marriage before, but you were onto me. I was just trying to check off the items on my to-do list. It isn’t like that now. I want to marry you because you’re the most important thing in my life. You’re the beat of my heart, Franci—the mother of my child, my best friend and my future. I love you more than anything. I love Rosie as much. I’d lay down my life for either one of you.” “Sean…” she said in a whisper, tears coming to her eyes. “I’m so sorry I had my head up my ass when we were together before—if I could do that whole time over, I’d prove to you that I’m not completely brainless. I love you, baby. You and Rose.” “I know,” she whispered. “We love you, too.” “Will you marry me?” he asked. He grinned. “Bite the dust with me? Spend our lives as husband and wife?” “I will, of course. You’re obviously useless on your own.” “We can plan a wedding or do it quick or wait to decide when I get orders—it’s up to you. Anything you want. But let’s get a license right away so we’re ready, because I need the official contract. I want to be your legal partner as well as your lover and best friend. And let’s get you a ring. Will you consider taking my name, baby? And let me give it to Rosie?” “Uh-huh,” she said, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. “It’s just details, honey—but the important part is right this minute, when we make the decision that we’re a family now.” “We’re a family now,” she said. “Whew,” he said. “I thought you’d probably say yes, but there was a little worry in the back of my mind that maybe I had more to prove. Thank you.” He leaned toward her and covered her lips with his. “Thank you,” he said again. “I love you so much. So let’s get the license and ring this week—what do you think?” She put her bowl on the bedside table. “I think my ice cream is soup, so you should close the door and take my clothes off. What do you think?” He grinned hugely. “I think I’m going to love being married to you.” *

To look at the multivitamin as an insurance policy is like looking at a marriage license as a guarantee of the union’s permanence.

PHILADELPHIA -Pennsylvania's ban on gay marriage was overturned by a federal judge Tuesday in a decision that legalized same-sex unions throughout the Northeast and sent couples racing to pick up licenses.

Angry tears stung her eyes. Tension built and boiled inside her. Her cheeks grew hot with suppressed anger, her movements became jerky and abrupt. She shoved an errant strand of hair out of her face, stormed to the washstand — And collided with her husband. He had been coming toward her with a piece of wet linen and a bowl half-filled with water. As he and Juliet bounced off each other, some of the water spilled onto the carpet, the rest down the front of his waistcoat. Ignoring it, Gareth held out the damp rag like a truce offering. "Here." "What's that for?" "She needs washing, doesn't she?" "What do you know about babies?" "Come now, Juliet. I am not entirely lacking in common sense." "I wonder," she muttered, spitefully. He summoned a polite though confused smile — and that only stoked Juliet's temper all the more. She did not want him to be such a gentleman, damn it!  She wanted a good, out-and-out row with him. She wanted to tell him just what she thought of him, of his reckless spending, of his carefree attitude toward serious matters. Oh, why hadn't she married someone like Charles — someone capable, competent, and mature? "What is wrong, Juliet?" "Everything!" she fumed. She plunged the linen in the bowl of water and began swabbing Charlotte's bottom. "I think Perry was right. We should go straight back to your brother, the duke." "You should not listen to Perry." "Why not? He's got more sense than you and the rest of your friends combined. We haven't even been married a day, and already it's obvious that you're hopelessly out of your element. You have no idea what to do with a wife and daughter. You have no idea where to go, how to support us — nothing. Yet you had to come charging after us, the noble rescuer who just had to save the day. I'll bet you didn't give any thought at all to what to do with us afterward, did you? Oh!  Do you always act before thinking? Do you?" He looked at her for a moment, brows raised, stunned by the force of her attack. Then he said dryly, "My dear, if you'll recall, that particular character defect saved your life. Not to mention the lives of the other people on that stagecoach." "So it did, but it's not going to feed us or find us a place to live!"  She lifted Charlotte's bottom, pinned a clean napkin around the baby's hips, and soaped and rinsed her hands. "I still cannot believe how much money you tossed away on a marriage license, no, a bribe, this morning, nor how annoyed you still seem to be that we didn't waste God-knows-how-much on a hotel tonight. You seem to have no concept of money's value, and at the rate you're going, we're going to have to throw ourselves on the mercy of the local parish or go begging in the street just to put food in our bellies!" "Don't be ridiculous. That would never happen." "Why wouldn't it?" "Juliet, my brother is the Duke of Blackheath. My family is one of the oldest and richest in all of England. We are not going to starve, I can assure you." "What do you plan to do, then, work for a living? Get those pampered, lily-white hands of yours dirty and calloused?

Taking her hands in his, he sank down to kneel before her. “I know we already are engaged, but I never went about it properly. Lydia Price, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” Gasps permeated the room as Vincent reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out a small jewel case. He flicked the box open to reveal a golden ring filigreed with Celtic knots and adorned with a large diamond surrounded by a rainbow of other jewels. Lydia’s heart lodged in her throat even as unmitigated happiness warmed her body. “When?” The word escaped aloud before she was aware. “Now.” From another pocket in his waistcoat, Vincent withdrew a small sheaf of papers. “I have with me a marriage contract and a special license. I’ve also managed to procure a parson at this late hour.” Everyone’s gazes flew to the stranger, whose identity was now revealed. The parson yawned as if in emphasis of the inconvenience. All eyes shifted to Lydia, awaiting her reply. Her knees quaked beneath her gown, threatening to give out and topple her. “Please, Lydia,” he said achingly. “I cannot bear another night of you not being mine.” “Yes.

I was crying so hard that I didn’t even want to bring my hands away. “Babe, stop crying,” he said with a chuckle. He looked at me and bit down on his lip making me all shy-like again. I backed away and tried to pull away from him to keep myself from crying even more. “You did all this?” I asked him, and he nodded. “I mean…I made sure it got set up. Tangie helped, but that’s why ain’t nobody been up here. They been taking care of this and making sure everything was right for you. Remember the chick that came through and said she needed our IDs and for us to sign for some insurance and shit?” “Yes,” I said and looked up at him and into his eyes. “That was my homegirl from the clerk’s office. She was filling the shit out we needed for the marriage license.” I laughed and hit Khi on the arm. I looked around, still amazed at how beautiful everything was. The place was filled with flowers, and a few candles were even lit at the front of the small chapel. “What about my hair…and what about what I have on?” I asked Khi, and he bit down on that damn lip again. “Don’t worry about your hair. You was ugly when I met you, so it’s only right I marry you looking the same way.” I cracked up laughing, and so did the nurse that stood by next to the wheelchair that she had wheeled Khi down in. I looked up at him with seriousness in my eyes and mouthed thank you to him. This wasn’t the dream wedding that I had wanted, but it was better, because my soon-to-be husband had planned it.

Jean-Claude Dehmel II was born in Vallejo, California to an All-American mother of Anglo-Irish ancestry and a French immigrant who abandoned the family before Dehmel was out of the mother's womb. Despite great odds Mr. Dehmel went to college (Humboldt State University) where he studied Mathematics and later law school (University at Buffalo). In 2004 he moved to mainland China to take up a teaching position at Liaoning Institute of Technology in Jinzhou, China. It was there he met his wife Li Xiao Bai. The marriage lasted three years. Mr. Dehmel has no children. He is the happy owner of a Pit Bull/Black lab mix. He has been a licensed attorney in Connecticut since 2009 but has little to no interest in practicing law. He is the author of three other books: Poetry for the Lovelorn, Notes from an American Jail and The House that Vivian Built

In any case, there is no reason to think that civil unions and private arrangements, religious and otherwise, cannot provide as much protection of children as official marriage does. If children need material support, that support can be required directly through legal institutions. If children need stable homes, the question is whether an official licensing scheme with the name marriage contributes enough to family stability to be worth the candle. Maybe

When someone is attacked, we call it assault. As horrible as that is, what is even worse is torment. Torment is when you’re assaulted and you cannot escape, like prisoners of war and those who are held captive in slavery. For some women, their version of slavery and captivity in torment is called marriage. Tragically, some women settle for this kind of life. Or perhaps even worse, they tell their church leadership, only to be told that when Paul said our bodies belongs to our spouses, it means the wife is basically a piece of property. Some tragic studies report that an assaulted wife who goes to her church instead of the police or a licensed counselor will be less likely to get ongoing emotional help and legal protection, but rather will return to the abuse in the name of submission—as if the abuse is what God had in mind for her. Anytime a husband or church leader demands the wife obey the Bible without doing the same for the husband, he is sanctioning abuse. Any professing Christian man who assaults his wife is a heretic preaching a false gospel with his life. A man is to love his wife as Christ loves the church. Jesus’ relationship with the church is not one of rape, violence, abuse, and degradation. There is no place for any assault—including sexual assault—in any marriage.

I sigh. “Cheer up. It looks like a nice town, and they do confidential same-day marriage licenses here, so we don’t have to worry about anybody finding out about this. We’re in, we’re out, we’re done.” “Title of your sex tape,” Lake mutters without cracking a smile. “Quick and efficient,” I say sternly. “The sequel.

You want to get married? Fine. Brimar is an ordained minister.” He crowds my space. “I’ll get married right here, right now. But I’ll tell you this—you’re not going to enjoy being my wife.” He crowds me so much that I’m pushed up against the castle now, hands behind my back so I don’t succumb to sweaty skin. “I take what I want, when I want it. And if my wife dares disobey me, there will be consequences.” Ooo, so hot. Does he realize that’s more of a turn-on than a turn off? Mr. Tattooed Man Meat wants to own me? Where’s the marriage license? I’ll sign right now.

A marriage license would be sufficient to prove an engagement, if you can find a man willing to sign one. They last a period of six months before they expire. I’m sure if you have an actual boyfriend, this wouldn’t prove too problematic for you to acquire.

Virginia resident Anna Marie Askin-Evans is a licensed professional counselor, marriage and family therapist, life coach, and trainer. She has more than 18 years of experience working in the mental health field. Anna Marie Askin-Evans is highly skilled in working with individuals, families, and couples in a calm, professional, and compassionate manner.

birth certificate and death certificate, both issued in Cook County, Illinois. Laura’s various diplomas, her birth certificate from Rhode Island, her social security card, her driver’s license. Andrea Eloise Mitchell’s record of live birth dated August 20, 1987. The deed to the Belle Isle house. Immunization records. Marriage license. Divorce decree. Car titles. Insurance cards. Bank statements. Credit card statements.

list of documents that may be required. It can look intimidating, especially if you’ve not been actively involved in your family finances, but don’t panic. If you can’t find all of them or don’t have access, there is a later step in the divorce process called “discovery,” when you can legally compel the other side to provide copies of anything else you need: •Individual income tax returns (federal, state, local) for past three years •Business income tax returns (federal, state, local) for past three years •Proof of your current income (paystubs, statements, or paid invoices) •Proof of spouse’s income (paystubs, statements, or paid invoices) •Checking, savings, and certificate statements (personal and business) for past three years •Credit card and loan statements (personal and business) for past three years •Investment, pension plan, and retirement account statements for past three years •Mortgage statement and loan documents for all properties you have an interest in •Real estate appraisals •Property tax documents •Employment contracts •Benefit statements •Social Security statements •Life, homeowner’s, and auto insurance policies •Wills and trust agreements •Health insurance cards •Vehicle titles and/or registration •Monthly budget worksheet •List of personal property (furnishings, jewelry, electronics, artwork) •List of property acquired by gift or inheritance or owned prior to marriage •Prenuptial agreements •Marriage license •Prior court orders directing payment of child support or spousal support Your attorney or financial advisor may ask for additional documents specific to your case. Some of these may not be applicable to you.

I’ve come to volunteer.” “Go see Marie. She directs the nurses.” “No. I have an ambulance.” I can see that he wants to laugh but the expression on my face stops him. “We have no women drivers.” “You do now.” Honestly, I’m so tired of this bullshit. I can’t have a byline because I’m a woman. I can’t apply for a marriage license on my own because I’m a woman. I can’t drive an ambulance because I’m a woman.

All you need is a marriage license signed by two people. And an officiate to sign off on it.

But let’s suppose that scientists someday discover a genetic contribution to homosexual desires. Would that give license to behavior? No, all of us have desires that we ought not to act on. In other words, we were all born with an “orientation” to bad behavior, but desires don’t justify the behavior. For example, some may have a genetic predisposition to alcohol, but who would advocate alcoholism? If someone has a genetic attraction to children, does that justify pedophilia? What homosexual activist would say that a genetic predisposition to violence justifies gay-bashing?

Some people are addicted to wedding cakes and divorces.

feel like I'm going to throw up, but that has more to do with this hangover I'm battling right now. But my feelings for marrying you? They haven’t changed since I asked, Gia. I loved you from the night I met you at that campus party. You were dancing with some cornball—what is it with you and cornball ass niggas—but anyway, I saw you dancing and you lit up the room. My pops would say that about my mother all the time, and I didn’t understand it until I saw you. I knew you would be my wife long before I asked you.” I dabbed at the tears pooling in my eyes. “Are you just saying this so I’ll marry you?” I replied thickly. “That was my attempt at making a joke to lighten the situation.” “The fact that you had to explain your joke explains why you always attract cornballs—you're one too.” “I am not!” “Yes, you are, but I love your corny ass. And I'mma love our corny little kids too. I love you so much that I'm willing to spend the rest of my life living in a house with a wife and kids explaining all their jokes to me,” Hasani went on over my laughs. “On a serious note: Gia, it doesn’t matter if you get all the way to the altar and change your mind when asked if you want to be my wife. I wouldn’t be mad. I want you to be as excited about forever as I am, you hear me? But don’t wait until we sign the marriage license and shit; I might have to fight you.

Looks authentic,’ Lancaster said. ‘Like the people who live here really belong here and want to be here. In too many places I’ve been, people seem cast in a temporary role. Everyone’s trying out a new persona. The whole country’s got attention deficit disorder. That’s why the moving van business is booming. I have no doubt that once the average lifespan becomes one hundred, marriage will disappear entirely as an institution. Or else marriage licenses will be good for only twenty years.’ ‘It’s practically like that now.’ ‘For you?’ ‘Maybe,’ I said.

Been looking for you,” Sam said as he opened Cole’s passenger door and got in. Tanner helped himself at the driver’s door, forcing Cole over so that he was sandwiched between them, coming into such a close and personal relationship with the gearshift that the two of them should have gotten a marriage license first.

At the end of the fifteenth century, the Church largely controlled the regulatory powers that have since been assumed by governments. The Church dominated important areas of law, recording deeds, registering marriages, probating wills, licensing trades, titling land, and stipulating terms and conditions of commerce.

And I’m thinking of marrying a couple friends of mine, see.” I had to pause for a moment there. “Plural friends?” “Yeah, good business match it would be.We’ve been close since we were kids. “Perhaps my Nuryeven isn’t as good as I thought. When you say marry, you mean joining your households together and producing hiers, yes?” It wasn’t that the concept was alien to me, it’s just that I hadn’t expected such an arrangement to be commonplace in Nuryevet. Well, no, I’ll be honest, iots that I hadn’t spent even a blink of time thinking about their practices, and if you’d asked me at that time I probably would have told you that all Nuryevens lumber along like they're made of stone. Not a drop of hot blood in their bodies and no interest whatsoever in romance, and that they acquired children by filing paperwork in quintuplicate and being assigned one by an advocate. My new friend Ilias said, “Iy that’s right, though I don't think that Anya and Micket will care to manage it themselves. Heirs are cheap though. You can scrape together half a dozen of them right off the street. So longs you've got flxible standards” I shook my head, “Is this a common thing in these parts?” “Ey? Oh, iy, common enough. I’ve seen marriages with more partners than that.” He pulled his chair to face me fully. “The Oomack only ever have two partner marriages, did you know that? And it's not about business. They don't even seem to care about their assets at all!” “Well, no, the Oomack marry for love and sex.” “Is that right? That seems messy. Lots of feelings involved if you combine sex and business.” Ilias had certain opinions, shall we say which may have not been representative of the general Nuryeven philosophy. Marriage here is a great amalgamation of every kind legal partnership. They get married when they are going into business together. They get married when they want to own property jointly. They get married when they're in love. Some of these arrangements do involve a physical element or the biological production of heirs, as they do elsewhere. Some, as Ilia mentioned before, simply involve formally adopting half a dozen heirs off the street. Some are a mere legal formality. Like many things in Nuryevet , you can do as you please so long as you’ve got your paperwork in order. I didn’t quite understand all this at the time. It took me a while to glean the intricacies of it, or rather, the lack of intricacies. At the time, I only asked Ilia if he had a separate lover. “Not right now. I hire a private contractor for that.” “A prostitute you mean??” “No, a contractor. Prostitutes are, well you’re foreign, you wouldn't know. We don't have those here. Prostitutes just stand on the street and don't have a license or pay taxes, right? They juits have sex with whoever in an ally.” “Oh… some of them, in some places. In other places.” I waved vaguely, “ higher status.” “Meaning what?” “Meaning they’re more expensive. Meaning they do other things besides the act. In some places they're priests and priestesses. In some places they're popular society figures with property and businesses, patrons of the arts and so forth.” “Here you hire one of them like you’d hire a doctor or a tailor or someone to build a house for you, and you wouldn’t graba just anybody off the street for that would you. They show you their l;icence and you sign a contract together and so on. It's a good system.” “What about those who don't have a licence?” “Arrested! Just like a doctor practicing without a license would be.

There is nothing wrong in getting married. The problem arises when you expect a marriage to deliver companionship or when you start believing that a marriage makes love happen. If you look at it objectively, marriage is just a social license for people to live together and, well, have sex, and, in most cases, procreate. Beyond being that license, it serves no purpose. The loving between people, the act of sexual intercourse and the biological process of having children – all of these can surely happen even outside of a marriage. Which is why marriage is neither necessary nor relevant. So, marry only if you really want to, but don’t expect the marriage to make you happy. Companionship is what delivers happiness. And companionship is not about gender or age; it is about finding love, being loving – in the present continuous – no matter what and celebrating each other!

I glanced down at the tattered, bloodstained marriage license. Numb, I pulled myself atop the wagon. There was nothing more to be said. The sheriff, God and Kentucky had said it for me. It had been foolish to dream. I snapped the reins. Dreams were for books.

He had decided to give up his trip to see Thompson, and instead to arrange with Bottweill to attend the Christmas party disguised as Santa Claus, because the idea of a woman living in his house—or of the only alternative, my leaving—had made him absolutely desperate, and he had to see for himself. He had to see Margot and me together, and to talk with her if possible. If he found out that the marriage license was a hoax he would have me by the tail; he could tell me he would be delighted to welcome my bride and watch me wriggle out. If he found that I really meant it he would know what he was up against and go on from there. The point was this, that he had shown what he really thought of me. He had shown that rather than lose me he would do something that he wouldn’t have done for any fee anybody could name. He would rather have gone without beer for a week than admit it, but now he was a fugitive from justice in a murder case and needed me. So he had to let me know, but he wanted it understood that that aspect of the matter was not to be mentioned. The assumption would be that he had gone to Bottweill’s instead of Long Island because he loved to dress up like Santa Claus and tend bar.

No chance of a ceremony inside the church,” he reported to Kev and Cam as they gathered in the main parlor. “It’s a sodding mess.” “We’ll get married on the church steps, then,” Kev said. “Impossible, I’m afraid.” Leo looked rueful. “According to the rubric of the church, it has to be inside a church or chapel that has been officially licensed. And neither the vicar nor the rector dare go against the laws. The consequences are so severe that they might receive three years’ suspension. When I asked where the nearest licensed chapel was, they looked in the records. As it happens, about fifty years ago our estate chapel was licensed for a family wedding, but it ran out since then.” “Can we renew it?” Cam asked. “Today?” “I asked that. The rector seemed to think it was an acceptable solution, and he agreed as long as Merripen and Win promised to privately solemnize the marriage at the church as soon as the roof is repaired.” “But the marriage would be legal starting today?” Kev demanded. “Yes, legal and registered, as long as it’s held before noon. The church won’t recognize a wedding if it’s held even one minute after twelve.” “Good,” Kev said curtly. “We’ll marry this morning at the estate chapel. Pay the rector whatever he demands.” “There’s only one problem with this plan,” Cam said. “We don’t have an estate chapel. At least, I’ve never seen one.” Leo looked blank. “What the bloody hell happened to it?” They both glanced at Kev, who had been in charge of the estate restoration for the past two years. He had taken down walls, razed small buildings, and made new additions to the original manor house. “What did you do with the chapel, phral?” Cam asked apprehensively. A scowl settled on Kev’s face. “No one was using it except some nesting birds. So we turned it into a granary and attached it to the barn.” In the face of their silence, he said defensively, “It still counts.” “You want to be married in a granary?” Leo asked incredulously. “Among bins of animal feed?” “I want to be married anywhere,” Kev said. “The granary’s as good a place as any.” Leo looked sardonic. “Someone may want to ask Win if she is willing to be married in a former chapel that now amounts to a shed attached to the barn. Forbearing as my sister is, even she has standards.” “I’m willing!” came Win’s voice from the stairs. Cam smothered a grin. Leo shook his head and spoke in his sister’s direction. “It’s a barn, Win.” “If our Lord didn’t mind being born in a stable,” she replied cheerfully, “I certainly have no objection to being married in a barn.” Briefly lifting his gaze heavenward, Leo muttered, “I’ll go take care of the renewal fee. I can hardly wait to see the vicar’s expression when I tell him we’ve turned the chapel into a granary. It doesn’t reflect well on this family’s piety, let me tell you.” “You’re concerned about appearing pious?” Kev asked. “Not yet. I’m still in the process of being led astray. But when I finally get around to repenting, I’ll have no damned chapel for it.” “You can repent in our officially licensed granary,” Cam said, shrugging into his coat. 

Scripps Marriage Therapy, a licensed practice located in Scripps Ranch, San Diego County. We provide the following therapy and counseling services; conflict in marriage, intimacy in marriage. Infidelity therapy, premarital counseling. Our approach includes: solution focused, cognitive behavioral, emphatic connectivity, family of origin and Christian holistic therapy and counseling services.

right price they can produce college diplomas, birth certificates, marriage licenses, court orders, car titles, eviction notices, driver’s licenses, credit histories—there’s no limit to their mischief. Some of what they do is illegal and some is not. They brazenly advertise on the Internet, along with an astonishing number of competitors, but claim to be careful about whom they work for.

And on February 19, I, Dorothea Mae Daley, took Emanuel Engel Jr., to be my wedded husband . . . There was no ring, no license, no bouquet, no veil, no Mass . . . Sounds of bombs were in the distance, and my feet, encased in huge army boots, felt awkward as I stood in an army hospital . . . But there was a solemnity and a sacredness about the ceremony, performed in the midst of so much tragedy, that made us both feel that ours was no ordinary marriage.

afraid that Ben will go into shock when he realizes she has a zillion and one bad habits; it won’t take long before he notices that she never rinses out her cereal bowls or bothers to make the bed. Sooner or later he’ll discover that the ice cream is always disappearing from the freezer because Gillian is feeding it to Buddy as a special treat. He’ll see that Gillian’s sweaters often are crumpled into balls of wool and chenille on the floor of a closet or under the bed. And if Ben grows disgusted, if he should decide to kick her out, say good-bye, rethink his options, well, then let him. There’s no marriage license

A marriage license is not a certificate of ownership.

Now that you’re my wife, I only need one more thing to be complete.” “What’s that?” she asked breathlessly. He pulled back, and began plucking pins from her hair, releasing the waves from the chignon. “What the hell does A.J. stand for?” Laughter filled the room. “Didn’t you look at the marriage license?” “I was too blinded by love. So?” “You aren’t going to believe it.” “Try me,” he said, as the last pin fell to the floor. He buried his hands in her hair, shaking it out around her shoulders. “The first is Arlington.” “Not bad. Better than a lot of other words that start with A.” His smile was warm. She cast him a dry look. “It was the city I was born in.” “Makes it easy to remember.” “The other is Juniper.” He froze in disbelief. “You’re named after a bush?” “It’s a damn nice planting, a hearty shrub.” Devlin was laughing as he said, “And the connection is . . .” “I think I might have been conceived under one.” “That’s adventurous.” “I haven’t asked a lot of questions.” “I can see why.

At the state’s constitutional convention of 1878, John F. Miller warned: “Were the Chinese to amalgamate at all with our people, it would be the lowest, most vile and degraded of our race, and the result of that amalgamation would be a hybrid of the most despicable, a mongrel of the most detestable that has ever afflicted the earth.” Two years later, California lawmakers enacted legislation to prohibit the issuance of a license authorizing the marriage of a white person with a “negro, mulatto, or Mongolian.

Types of Degrees for Professionals When you begin to investigate therapists, you will probably see a wide array of initials following their names. That alphabet soup indicates academic degrees, licenses, and/or certifications. Remember that just because the professional has a lot of impressive degrees, that doesn’t mean that he or she is the right therapist for you. The most important thing is to feel completely comfortable with the person so you can speak honestly about your feelings. If you are uncomfortable or intimidated, your time with the therapist will not be effective. When finding a therapist, you should look for one with a master’s degree or a doctorate in a mental-health field. This shows that he or she has had advanced training in dealing with psychological problems. Therapists’ academic degrees include: M.D. (Doctor of Medicine): This means that the doctor received his or her medical degree and has had four years of clinical residency. M.D.s can prescribe medication. Ph.D. (Doctor of Philosophy) and Psy.D. (Doctor of Psychology): These professionals have had four to six years of graduate study. They frequently work in businesses, schools, mental-health centers, and hospitals. M.A. (Master of Arts degree in psychology): An M.A. is basically a counseling degree. Therapists with this degree emphasize clinical experience and psychotherapy. M.S. (Master of Science degree in psychology): Professionals with this degree are more inclined toward research and usually have a specific area of focus. Ed.D. (Doctor of Education): This degree indicates a background in education, child development, and general psychology. M.S.W. (Master of Social Work): An M.S.W. is a social-work degree that prepares an individual to diagnose and treat psychological problems and provide mental health resources. Psychiatric social workers make up the single largest group of mental health professionals. In addition to the various degrees therapists may hold, there are also a number of licenses that may be obtained. These include: M.F.C.C.: Marriage, Family, and Child Counselor M.F.T. Marriage and Family Therapist L.C.S.W.: Licensed Clinical Social Worker L.I.S.W.: Licensed Independent Social Worker L.S.W.: Licensed Social Worker

She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I want us forever. All three of us. I want … I want the wedding. I want to say yes to both of you.” Her eyes shine and her smile trembles. “So … Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” She twists to look at Beast. “And yes, I’ll marry you. We might be missing the marriage license, but I don’t care about that.” “Me, either.” I grin. “How about tomorrow?