Romance Husband And Wife Quotes

I’ve been fighting to be who I am all my life. What’s the point of being who I am, if I can’t have the person who was worth all the fighting for?

Every broken heart has screamed at one time or another: Why can't you see who I truly am?

Will sat down beside his wife and pulled her into his lap. “I am going to kiss your mother now,” he announced. “Flee if you will, children. If not, we could play Ludo when the romance is over.” “The romance is never over,” said James glumly. Tessa laughed and put up her face to be kissed.

A man who respects his wife, does not sleep with other women. And a woman who respects herself does not allow her husband to get away with it

[On what young husbands should say to their wives:] I have taken you in my arms, and I love you, and I prefer you to my life itself. For the present life is nothing, and my most ardent dream is to spend it with you in such a way that we may be assured of not being separated in the life reserved for us... I place your love above all things, and nothing would be more bitter or painful to me than to be of a different mind than you.

Soon after the completion of his college course, his whole nature was kindled into one intense and passionate effervescence of romantic passion. His hour came,—the hour that comes only once; his star rose in the horizon,—that star that rises so often in vain, to be remembered only as a thing of dreams; and it rose for him in vain. To drop the figure,—he saw and won the love of a high-minded and beautiful woman, in one of the northern states, and they were affianced. He returned south to make arrangements for their marriage, when, most unexpectedly, his letters were returned to him by mail, with a short note from her guardian, stating to him that ere this reached him the lady would be the wife of another. Stung to madness, he vainly hoped, as many another has done, to fling the whole thing from his heart by one desperate effort. Too proud to supplicate or seek explanation, he threw himself at once into a whirl of fashionable society, and in a fortnight from the time of the fatal letter was the accepted lover of the reigning belle of the season; and as soon as arrangements could be made, he became the husband of a fine figure, a pair of bright dark eyes, and a hundred thousand dollars; and, of course, everybody thought him a happy fellow. The married couple were enjoying their honeymoon, and entertaining a brilliant circle of friends in their splendid villa, near Lake Pontchartrain, when, one day, a letter was brought to him in that well-remembered writing. It was handed to him while he was in full tide of gay and successful conversation, in a whole room-full of company. He turned deadly pale when he saw the writing, but still preserved his composure, and finished the playful warfare of badinage which he was at the moment carrying on with a lady opposite; and, a short time after, was missed from the circle. In his room,alone, he opened and read the letter, now worse than idle and useless to be read. It was from her, giving a long account of a persecution to which she had been exposed by her guardian's family, to lead her to unite herself with their son: and she related how, for a long time, his letters had ceased to arrive; how she had written time and again, till she became weary and doubtful; how her health had failed under her anxieties, and how, at last, she had discovered the whole fraud which had been practised on them both. The letter ended with expressions of hope and thankfulness, and professions of undying affection, which were more bitter than death to the unhappy young man. He wrote to her immediately: I have received yours,—but too late. I believed all I heard. I was desperate. I am married, and all is over. Only forget,—it is all that remains for either of us." And thus ended the whole romance and ideal of life for Augustine St. Clare. But the real remained,—the real, like the flat, bare, oozy tide-mud, when the blue sparkling wave, with all its company of gliding boats and white-winged ships, its music of oars and chiming waters, has gone down, and there it lies, flat, slimy, bare,—exceedingly real. Of course, in a novel, people's hearts break, and they die, and that is the end of it; and in a story this is very convenient. But in real life we do not die when all that makes life bright dies to us.

Watching my parents I've learnt a lesson many do not recognize. True love is not signaled by romantic, candle light dinners, red roses glistening with dew, or even Valentine's day celebrations. While these things may accompany our feelings, love is truly more than all those! Love is being with your spouse even when its not pleasing. Sometimes, love is walking down the hall, with your spouse hanging onto your shoulders and walking at a turtle's pace down the hall, just because surgery made life a burden. Love is patient, love is kind, love is Jesus! May we always remember love is not always tied in bows!

Cheating in relationship is a sign of self-regulation failure. When it happens ones, it is a mistake. When it happens twice, it is unfortunate. But when it happens thrice or more, it is a pattern indicating primitive, uncivilized inhuman behavior.

Marriage is not kick-boxing, it's salsa dancing.

Marriage is a full-time job; wooing is your application, courtship your interview, engagement your job offer, and honeymoon, your orientation.

Oh? And what was I to say? I beg your pardon, Lord Wriothesly, but your wife seems to have acquired a distinct liking for my husband's cock. Would you mind kindly retrieving her to your own bed?

Wolf took Scarlet’s hands into his, as tenderly as he would pick up an injured butterfly, and slid the band onto her finger. His voice was rough and wavering as he recited—“I, Ze’ev Kesley, do hereby claim you, Scarlet Benoit, as my wife and my Alpha. Forevermore, you will be my mate, my star, my beginning of everything.” He smiled down at her, his eyes swimming with emotion. Scarlet returned the look, and though Wolf’s expression teetered between proud and bashful, Scarlet’s face contained nothing but joy. “You are the one. You have always been, and you will always be, the only one. Scarlet took the second ring—a significantly larger version of the same unadorned band—and pressed it onto Wolf’s finger. “I, Scarlet Benoit, do hereby claim you, Ze’ev Kesley, as my husband and my Alpha. Forevermore, you will be my mate, my star, my beginning of everything. You are the one. You have always been, and you will always be, the only one.” Wolf folded his hands around hers. From where she sat, Cinder could see that he was shaking. Kai grinned. “By the power given to me by the people of Earth, under the laws of the Earthen Union and as witnessed by those gathered here today, I do now pronounce you husband and wife.” He spread his hands in invitation. “You may kiss your—” Wolf wrapped his arms around Scarlet’s waist, lifting her off the floor, and kissed her before Kai could finish. Or maybe she kissed him. It seemed mutual, as her hands wound through his disheveled hair. The room exploded with cheers, everyone launching to their feet to congratulate the still-kissing couple. Scarlet had lost one of her red shoes. “I’ll get the champagne,” said Thorne, heading toward the kitchen. “Those two are going to be thirsty when they finally come up for air.

It's time to shop high heels if your fiance kisses you on the forehead.

We start a relationship with someone not only because of how great they are but how great they make us feel. And because they have granted us this extraordinary gift—a chance to experience love, joy, compassion, and security —it is our exclusive privilege to make them feel wonderful about themselves, especially during days when they, themselves, don't feel so wonderful.

Do You Believe Do you believe that I have loved you since the dawn of time? Do you believe that we were destined to be intertwined?...

I write our names on the page. What of it, if the paper will be burned? I write our names in the sand. What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves? I write our names on trees that will be cut and benches that will be painted, but what of it? I will keep on writing our names because in this world of ephemera, You and I are the only constant.

The silence stretched out between us as I stared at him, the tears blurring my vision as I waited for him to save me from this torment. Surely he could find a way.

He who sacrifices his respect for love basically burns his body to obtain the light.

Ladies, if you’re single there is nothing wrong, sinful or wicked about desiring a husband, nothing. Anyone who would say otherwise is absolutely lying to you. God wired you for it, He built you for it. Men, there is nothing wrong, wicked, or evil about wanting a wife. I don’t know when that happened, I don’t, now listen I do think that you need to be content where you are today, alright, but listen I’m content with what Christ is doing in me today but I don’t want to be who I am today, I’m hoping Christ will complete what He began. It’s okay, it’s alright, who made it so complicated? it’s okay, it’s okay to want a wife, it’s okay to want a husband, those are good things, they’re really good things. It’s okay, it’s okay to want.

When you look into your soulmates eyes, you see the world; into your soulmates heart, you see the sky, and into your soulmates soul, you see the universe.

Falling in love is accidental, staying in love is intentional, and growing in love is delightful.

My Wife, I get to keep you forever. ~Lucian Bane~

Everything I have become, everything I will ever accomplish cannot compare to my most impressive feat: I have loved you fiercely and assiduously with the very marrow inside my bones. So that when I die, they can crack them to find you there. So that when I die, they can open me up and see your name tattooed on the wall of my heart. So that when I die, my epitaph will neither commemorate who I was nor what I did, but will read: “She loved. And loved. And loved.” And so, I smile now, because that is no small thing.

My spouse is my shield, my spouse is my strength.

Do You Believe ...on this road of life on this day I take you now husband and wife...

A man is not for you when all he knows is to slam your back on the bed and ram into you like a wild fool. The interested ones are the ones so interested that they become very interested in only interesting things about you.

Taking good care of your husband or wife is the best way to thank their parent or parents for having taken good care of them.

There are many fish in the sea, but never let a good one swim away.

Happy is the man who marries the woman he wants; happier is the man who marries the woman he needs.

Just so we know we have the story straight you too are posing as husband and wife? No, we’re not posing.

Where are you going?" "To get my Bible." "Right now? You can't get your Bible out right now! I'm, I'm, we're just about to..." She'd never be able to go through with this if he got out his Bible. She wiped all humor from her face. "I believe you. Proverbs 5:18. Rejoice, relish, and romp with your husband." He chuckled. "I'm serious, Connie, and I won't have you feeling ashamed or unclean over anything we do in that bed, tonight or any other night." "I won't. I feel unashamed and very clean. I promise. But please don't get out that Bible." "What? Think you that God can't see us right now?" Groaning, she slid off his lap and covered her face with her hands. He sunk to his knees in front of her, drawing her hands down. "I love you. You love me. We are man and wife. God is watching, Connie, and He is very, very pleased.

Love came, it saw, and it conquered me.

The easiest way to remember your future wife’s birthday is to marry her on Super Bowl Sunday.

Finding a wife is easy; keeping her happy takes work.

Marriage is a garden that requires two gardeners to care for it.

You are not by any manner of means the sort of woman I am in search of as a wife, and I am in a totally different universe from the husband you hope to find. But I feel a powerful urge to kiss you, for all that.

And no one, no one should know what passes between husband and wife if they love one another. And whatever quarrels there may be between them they ought not to call in their own mother to judge between them and tell tales of one another. They are their own judges. Love is a holy mystery and ought to be hidden from all other eyes, whatever happens.

To him, she was one of the few girls who was nice to him, the stodgy son of a poor alcoholic shoemaker with such little status that he seemed unlikely to even get one wife, let alone the three or more that designated a man of standing.

Twenty years ago, two of the CIA's best double-agents had been murdered in their own home on Christmas Eve. The husband had been killed first, and the wife had been raped repeatedly before she'd been beaten to death. The two children were never found.

I was traumatizing her. I could only hope that at three she was too young to retain any of this in memory, that in the years to follow I could make up for any future need for therapy I was creating now. Could I? Or would she always have a deep insecurity, the kind that send people careening from one disastrous romance to the next? And why did I have to live my life obsessed with these kinds of concerns, this constant attempt to control the most uncertain of outcomes, my own effect on someone else's mind?

Just when I think you’ve hit bottom you continue to amaze me,” Kyle said. “Or, does this get worse? Nothing would surprise me after this. Are you sleeping with a married man whose wife is dying of cancer?” Elroy didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. “I know nothing about his wife, or his husband for that matter. I don’t ask and I’m not out to break up his home. Lighten up, man. Everybody does it. It’s not like I’m going to freaking marry this dude. I’m only having a little fun with him. You wanna come with me? We’ll have a three-way. You should see the way this guy moves. It will blow your mind.” With that remark Kyle shoved his hands into his pockets and walked faster. “No, thank you. That’s not something I’m interested in doing. Meeting nice, decent people is the only thing that blows my mind. I just hope you’re using condoms, you goddman asshole.

A beautiful face is temporary; a beautiful soul is forever.

Bitter love is better than sweet hate.

If you choose money over love, you will always be poor.

A kiss is the easiest thing to throw at someone because its weight is love.

Falling in love is not the problem; hitting your head on the way down is.

True love is like diamonds; scarce, and priceless.

Love only knocks on your heart’s door when certain it has the right address.

Should I rejoice in the inferiority of my fate?" - John Lockwood

The only place you will find love before sacrifice is in the dictionary.

The best couples share the load, divide the grief, and add to the peace, thereby multiplying joy.

Being married is effortless; being happily married takes work.

If you try to buy love, you will go bankrupt trying to possess it.

Never keep score in marriage; your wife is going to win anyway.

If taking on a wife for life in an institution called marriage were a sign of male privilege, why did “husband” derive from the Germanic “house” and the Old Norse for “bound” or “bondage”?68 Why did it also come from words meaning “a male kept for breeding,” “one who tills the soil,” and “the male of the pair of lower animals.”69 Conversely, if marriage were as awful for women as many feminists claim, why is it the centerpiece of female fantasies in myths and legends of the past, or romance novels and soap operas of the present? Spartan boys who were deprived of their families were deprived, not privileged. Boys deprived of women’s love until they risked their lives at work or war were also deprived—or dead. Training boys to kill boys was considered moral when it led to survival, immoral only when it threatened survival. In these respects, “patriarchy” created male deprivation and male death, not male privilege.

I imagine standing beside you as a partner. I imagine supporting you as a friend. I imagine encouraging you as a confidant. And I imagine loving you in all the ways a devoted husband would adore his wife.

We'll let Stefan fill you in on all the wedding plans," said Anastasia with a knowing smile. "Come, Cass. Let's find the wagon." "It's right where I left it," Uncle Casimir protested as his wife tugged him away. "That's what I tie the horses for.

But as to your writing me that I don’t love you very much, I don’t know whether you’re saying this in earnest or whether I should realise that you’re joking with me. Still, what you say disturbs me. You are measuring a very healthy expression of a wife’s loyalty by the standard of the insincere flattery of well-worn phrases. But I shall love you, my husband. What does it mean to you that you reassure me with those trivial little compliments? Do you want me to believe that you expect me to comb my hair in a stylish fashion for your homecoming? Or to feign adoring looks with a painted face? Let women without means, who worry and have no confidence in their virtue, flutter their eyelashes and play games to gain favour with their husbands. This is the adulation of a fox and the birdlime of deceitful bird hunting. I don’t want to have to buy you at such a price. I’m not a person who lays more stock in words than duty. I am truly your Laura, whose soul is the same one you in turn had hoped for.

Tell me, Lucy. Do you want this? Do you want to come all over my fingers while you watch your husband slowly die? Watch him writhe in agony with the realization that he once had the most remarkable woman on the planet for a wife and he fucked it all up?

If God gives you a gift and you don't know what to do with it, it won't make you happy. Some of you God gave a wonderful husband but you can't make a home and some of you God gave a wonderful wife but you can't make a good husband. Some of you can't even unwrap the gift so that you can appreciate it.

Trav smiled his sweetest, most charming smile. "Of course I'll play your husband on TV." Daisy blew out a breath of relief. "Great! Thank you. I knew you'd understand." She reached for the ignition to shut off the car. He placed his hand on hers. They weren't done quite yet. "As long as you play my wife in real life.

He wipes away the tear streaming down my cotton cheekbone to my chin and looks at me like his own chest is about to fracture. And for a moment, I'm certain they should just bury us both here, at the center of the graveyard. Married and died on the same day. Unable to contain the unspeakable, awful, wondrous emotion breaking against our eyelids. The dreadful residents of Halloween Town applaud, tossing tiny dwarf spiders at our feet as we leave the cemetery, and the warmth in my chest feels like bats clamoring for a way out of my rib cage. Trying to break me apart. I am now Sally Skellington. The Pumpkin Queen. And I'm certain I will never again be as happy as I am right now.

I believe it is customary,” the duke said, his tone low and a bit ominous, “for a guardian to spout vague threats to his ward’s new husband should that husband bring any harm to his new wife.” James nodded, glancing quickly at the duke’s right boot, where he’d learned a dagger was always sheathed. “I, however, do not make vague threats.” The duke’s eyes narrowed. “Should you show yourself in any way less than worthy of the trust Daphne has placed in you, you will find yourself swinging from the gibbet at Falstone Castle, taken down regularly to be beaten, then locked in irons in the dungeon and placed in the room I refer to as the Rat’s Nest, where the vermin will be delighted to make your better acquaintance. You will next be invited to join me in my vast, dense forest, where I will leave you for the wolves to chew on.

I cut our paper dinner with a pair of scissors borrowed from the front desk of the hotel. I cooked with a spice rack box of crayons – sixteen colors. I seasoned the pumpkin pie with orange crayon, and basted the turkey's crisp skin in brown. I was remorseless with my sketchbook abattoir, playing the part of carnivore just as surely as I was play-acting the role of wife. I may as well have been a wax figure in a dollhouse eating the wax-scented food.

Rhys cleared his throat and tugged on his cravat. “I wanted to ask you something.” “Yes?” St. Clare livened up immediately as he took a sip of whisky. “Do you treat your wife like your mistress?” St. Clare raised a brow. Any other man would be sputtering his drink out of his mouth in surprise at the question. Not St. Clare. “No, I treat my wife a lot better than I have ever treated any of my mistresses.” “That’s not exactly what I mean….” Rhys cleared his throat again. “Then what do you mean?” Rhys scratched his temple. “I mean in bed.” “Oh…” Gabriel scowled. “I do not think I follow.” “Well, I mean… All the depraved things you did with your mistresses, do you do them to your wife?” Gabriel raised his brow. “If by depraved, you mean whether I pleasure my wife in every way I have learned how then yes. And she does the same for me.” “You let her—” “I let her do anything she wants to do to me and then teach her to do even more,” he added with a wink. Rhys tugged on his cravat again in agitation. “What I mean is… I’ve heard time and time again that ladies are delicate creatures who cannot withstand arduous pursuits… There are things that are indecent—” “Let me stop you right there, my dear, virtuous friend. What you think is indecent, I do to my wife every morning before breakfast. And what you call degrading or embarrassing, I call Tuesday.” He finished his drink and slammed the glass onto the desk. “There is no such thing as indecent between a husband and a wife. The only thing indecent is a cold marriage bed. Take it from a former rake.

What, then, is marriage for? It is for helping each other to become our future glory-selves, the new creations that God will eventually make us. The common horizon husband and wife look toward is the Throne, and the holy, spotless and blameless nature we will have. I can think of no more powerful common horizon than that, and that is why putting a Christian friendship at the heart of a marriage relationship can lift it to a level that no other vision of marriage approaches … We think of a prospective spouse as primarily a lover (or a provider), and if he or she can be a friend on top of that, well isn’t that nice! We should be going at it the other way around. Screen first for friendship. Look for someone who understands you better than you do yourself, who makes you a better person just by being around them. And then explore whether that friendship could become a romance and a marriage. So many people go about their dating starting from the wrong end, and they end up in marriages that aren’t really about anything and aren’t going anywhere.4

There was nothing to see in the room, but his brain pulled multiple vivid memories to the forefront of his mind. Entering the house as husband and wife, with Angela holding onto his arm. The night his father died in the downstairs bedroom while he was helpless to do anything but watch from the window; an outsider. Long years of being Angela’s Peter Pan before that boy had ever existed, flitting in and out of her window, and her life. Watching the woman he loved grow old and live a life without him by night, then babysitting her killer by day. It was impossible for him to see Amelia as anything else in those early days. The days before he loved her.

Love demands something unrevealed; it flourishes, therefore, only in mystery. No one ever wants to hear a singer hit her highest note, nor an orator “tear a passion to tatters,” for once mystery and the infinite are denied, life’s urge is stilled and its passion glutted. In a true marriage, there is an ever-enchanting romance. There are at least four distinct mysteries progressively revealed. First, there is the mystery of the other partner, which is body-mystery. When that mystery is solved and the first child is born, there begins a new mystery. The husband sees something in the wife he never before knew existed, namely, the beautiful mystery of motherhood. She sees a new mystery in him she never before knew existed, namely, the mystery of fatherhood. As other children come to revive their strength and beauty, the husband never seems older to the wife than the day they were married, and the wife never seems older than the day they first met and carved their initials in an oak tree. As the children reach the age of reason, a third mystery unfolds, that of fathercraft and mothercraft—the disciplining and training of young minds and hearts in the ways of God. As the children grow into maturity, the mystery continues to deepen, new areas of exploration open up, and the father and mother now see themselves as sculptors in the great quarry of humanity, carving living stones and fitting them together in the Temple of God, Whose Architect is Love. The fourth mystery is their contribution to the well-being of the nation. Here, too, is the root of democracy, for it is in the family that a person is valued not for what he is worth, nor for what he can do, but primarily for what he is.

Men often defer the hopes of their wives in several critical areas, and women often unconsciously return the favor. According to relationship expert Dr. Gary Smalley, the four greatest needs of a woman are: (1) emotional and physical security, (2) the need for regular meaningful communication, (3) nonsexual touch, and (4) romance. Each night when a husband comes home, his wife (sometimes without even knowing it) hopes that these needs will be addressed and fulfilled. They want to feel the security of his love and commitment; the safety of being able to express their feelings and opinions without being interrupted or criticized. They want to be held and caressed without it being linked to the husband’s need for sex. They want to be listened to and have the chance to talk about their day. They want to be able to talk about their hopes, desires, and dreams. They want to hear about their husband’s day. They want to feel connected. And, they want to be romanced. They want to feel valued for who they are, not just what they do. And how do husbands defer their

Why do people go to church on Sundays? A question that is very complicated because I know what the answer is supposed to be but I do not really know the answer. . I think people go because it is a kind of tradition . I think some goes because someone told them if tgey do not they might go to hell . Maybe some go to look for a wife or husband ☺ . Maybe some go to church to display their latest designer shoes or handbags . Some goes just to please their Pastor . Some people go to church because they love the music or the preaching . Some goes because of some social reasons and friendship . Some have it in their mind that they will experience the presence of God in the church . Some goes to church because of miracle . Some goes to church when they are expecting something maybe child, comfort, marriage, work etc. . Some felt it is an obligation to give God a day out of the seven days he created Let me tell you that church is not there to entertain you, Ephesians 3:20... there are things going on in the church that some people barely know about. Ask yourself today why do I go to church. I am sure a sincere answer will help you.

The story we are told of women is not this one. The story of women is the story of love, of foundering into another. A slight deviation: longing to founder and being unable to. Being left alone in the foundering, and taking things into one's own hands: rat poison, the wheels of a Russian train. Even the smoother and gentler story is still just a modified version of the above. In the demotic, in the key of bougie, it's the promise of love in old age for all the good girls of the world. Hilarious ancient bodies at bath time, husband's palsied hands soaping wife's withered dugs, erection popping out of the bubbles like a pink periscope. I see you! There would be long, hobbledy walks under the plane trees, stories told by a single sideways glance, one word sufficing. Anthill, he'd say; Martini! she'd say; and the thick swim of the old joke would return to them. The laughter, the beautiful reverberations. Then the bleary toddling on to an early-bird dinner, snoozing through a movie hand in hand. Their bodies like knobby sticks wrapped in vellum. One laying the other on the deathbed, feeding the overdose, dying the day after, all heart gone out of the world with the beloved breath. Oh, companionship. Oh, romance. Oh, completion. Forgive her if she believed this would be the way it would go. She had been led to this conclusion by forces greater than she. Conquers all! All you need is! Is a many-splendored thing! Surrender to! Like corn rammed down goose necks, this shit they'd swallowed since they were barely old enough to dress themselves in tulle. The way the old story goes, woman needs an other to complete her circuits, to flick her to fullest blazing.

No, Anna, thank you,” Jo said. “Now go see your husband.” Anna nodded. She looked into Jo’s dark eyes and wondered more about the wet nurse. To be banished from her home because she had a gift. That’s what it was too, a gift. Without Jo’s breast milk, Thomas Jr. couldn’t survive. Yet somehow Anna knew there was more of a reason why Jo wanted Anna and Thomas together so bad. Anna didn’t have the time to explore it. Jo smiled and had a mischievous look in her eyes. “Your first night as husband and wife,” Jo said. “Go enjoy...” Jo turned and Anna walked down the hall towards Thomas’s bedroom - our bedroom, Anna’s mind reminded her - and when she stepped inside, she saw Thomas standing, slowly taking his boots off. “Hello,” Anna announced. “My Anna,” Thomas said.

Love is contagious no matter how you face it.

Frank Hummert was a Chicago copywriter in the ’20s. In 1930 he met Anne Ashenhurst, a former newspaperwoman who became his assistant and, five years later, his wife. The Hummerts had a formula that was surefire: appeal to the lowest common denominator, make it clear, grab the heartstrings, and reap the rewards. With writer Robert Hardy Andrews they created The Stolen Husband, one of radio’s earliest soaps. Hummert went on to do the most notable serials of the daytime. His name was added to the agency Blackett & Sample, though he was never a partner and owned no part of it. He left Blackett-Sample-Hummert and moved to New York. His new company, Air Features, Inc., turned out (among many others) Just Plain Bill, The Romance of Helen Trent, Ma Perkins, Our Gal Sunday, Lorenzo Jones, and Stella Dallas. It was estimated that Hummert at his peak bought 12.5 percent of the entire network radio schedule, that he billed $12 million a year, that his fiction factory produced almost seven million words a season.

Have you noticed our culture has a one-way expectation that a husband should give his wife what she “needs” (sending flowers to work, doing his share of the dirty work around the house, being a great dad, remembering and celebrating anniversaries) without asking for anything in return? But, as we know, this fantasy man isn’t a real husband; he’s a character in a dime-store romance novel. The kind of marriage I want is one in which we’re both doing all we can to honor and love each other. The kind of marriage I want is one in which we’re both doing all we can to honor and love each other, putting each other’s needs above our own. Philippians 2:3-4 says it best: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Love is the only tyrant whose reign is sweet.

Maybe tangled will be a spectacular rump. maybe i will adore it: it could happen. But one thing is for sure: tangled will not be rapunzel. And thats too bad , because rapunzel is an specially layered and relevant fairytale, less about the love between a man and a woman than the misguided attempts of a mother trying to protect her daughter from (what she perceives ) as the worlds evils. The tale, you may recall, begins with a mother-to-bes yearning for the taste of rapunzel, a salad green she spies growing in the garden of the sorceress who happens to live next door. The womans craving becomes so intense , she tells her husband that if he doesn't fetch her some, she and their unborn baby will die. So he steals into the baby's yard, wraps his hands around a plant, and, just as he pulls... she appears in a fury. The two eventually strike a bargain: the mans wife can have as much of the plant as she wants- if she turns over her baby to the witch upon its birth. `i will take care for it like a mother,` the sorceress croons (as if that makes it all right). Then again , who would you rather have as a mom: the woman who would do anything for you or the one who would swap you in a New York minute for a bowl of lettuce? Rapunzel grows up, her hair grows down, and when she is twelve-note that age-Old Mother Gothel , as she calls the witch. leads her into the woods, locking her in a high tower which offers no escape and no entry except by scaling the girls flowing tresses. One day, a prince passes by and , on overhearing Rapunzel singing, falls immediately in love (that makes Rapunzel the inverse of Ariel- she is loved sight unseen because of her voice) . He shinnies up her hair to say hello and , depending on the version you read, they have a chaste little chat or get busy conceiving twins. Either way, when their tryst is discovered, Old Mother Gothel cries, `you wicked child! i thought i had separated you from the world, and yet you deceived me!` There you have it : the Grimm`s warning to parents , centuries before psychologists would come along with their studies and measurements, against undue restriction . Interestingly the prince cant save Rapuzel from her foster mothers wrath. When he sees the witch at the top of the now-severed braids, he jumps back in surprise and is blinded by the bramble that breaks his fall. He wanders the countryside for an unspecified time, living on roots and berries, until he accidentally stumbles upon his love. She weeps into his sightless eyes, restoring his vision , and - voila!- they rescue each other . `Rapunzel` then, wins the prize for the most egalitarian romance, but that its not its only distinction: it is the only well-known tale in which the villain is neither maimed nor killed. No red-hot shoes are welded to the witch`s feet . Her eyes are not pecked out. Her limbs are not lashed to four horses who speed off in different directions. She is not burned at the stake. Why such leniency? perhaps because she is not, in the end, really evil- she simply loves too much. What mother has not, from time to time, felt the urge to protect her daughter by locking her in a tower? Who among us doesn't have a tiny bit of trouble letting our children go? if the hazel branch is the mother i aspire to be, then Old Mother Gothel is my cautionary tale: she reminds us that our role is not to keep the world at bay but to prepare our daughters so they can thrive within it. That involves staying close but not crowding them, standing firm in one`s values while remaining flexible. The path to womanhood is strewn with enchantment , but it also rifle with thickets and thorns and a big bad culture that threatens to consume them even as they consume it. The good news is the choices we make for our toodles can influence how they navigate it as teens. I`m not saying that we can, or will, do everything `right,` only that there is power-magic-in awareness.

The problem to end all problems is that it's quite easy to find a man who's ready to die in battle, for an ideal, for glory, maybe even his favorite soccer team in some cases. But it is extremely difficult to find a man wedded to the idea of dying for his family, for his wife and children, for an apparently banal daily life; yet the truth is that this would be the most heroic act you could ever imagine. It's not the grand gesture of one moment in time but rather a martyrdom -- a long, constant, and incredibly fruitful martyrdom. It's difficult for a man to see the beauty in this daily sacrifice, often made up of a series of burdens, annoyances, frustrations, and setbacks. Only by stepping back and seeing things from a different, even eternal, perspective does the messy wall become a brave and definitive bas relief -- a work of art.

After her husband died, she went away to live with her eldest son, and the round house shared the fate of Sally's. Where it stood is now a ploughed field. The husband's sacrifices, the wife's romance, are as though they had never been - 'melted into air, into thin air.

The Romance Some couples only live together as roommates, which is bad. All the wife does is just cook, take care of the house etc, all the husband does is provide for the house, act like the boss of the house ask for sex whenever he feels like it. Some even only ask for sex from their wife when they feel like it's time to have another baby and women thought it is taboo to ask their husbands for sex when they feel horny, whereas, some are shy to do so. Hmmm!! In some Marriages, there is nothing like gisting, romancing, going on dates, attending events together, praying together, studying the word together apart from the general family retreat. This has led many women to the arms of strange men, although that is not an excuse to commit adultery. It was even recorded in the Scripture that Father Isaac caressed his beloved wife Rebekah. Spoil each other with romance. Write love letters to your spouse and put them in his or her pocket or handbag

Just for a minute. For one minute, all I wanted to do was sit with her and forget about who I was and who she was and just be us. A man with a woman who upset the balance of everything he’d believed in. A husband with his wife in a moment where she needed him to just be there.

A couple can grow together when it's God who planted them together.

Boundaries Once upon a time, there were two youngsters, a boy and a girl. Their families hated each other. But the boy snuck into a party hosted by the girl’s family because he was kind of a dick. The girl sees the boy, and angels sing so sweetly to her lady-parts that she instantly falls in love with him. Just like that. And so he sneaks into her garden and they decide to get married the next freaking day, because, you know, that’s totally practical, especially when your parents want to murder each other. Jump ahead a few days. Their families find out about the marriage and throw a shit-fit. Mercutio dies. The girl is so upset that she drinks a potion that will put her to sleep for two days. But, unfortunately, the young couple hasn’t learned the ins and outs of good marital communication yet, and the young girl totally forgets to mention something about it to her new husband. The young man therefore mistakes his new wife’s self-induced coma for suicide. He then totally loses his marbles and he commits suicide, thinking he’s going to be with her in the afterlife or some shit. But then she wakes up from her two-day coma, only to learn that her new husband has committed suicide, so she has the exact same idea and kills herself too. The end. Romeo and Juliet is synonymous with “romance” in our culture today. It is seen as the love story in English-speaking culture, an emotional ideal to live up to. Yet when you really get down to what happens in the story, these kids are absolutely out of their fucking minds. And they just killed themselves to prove it!

Eliminate all your escape routes. Whether they exist in your mind, on Facebook, in your address book or on the other side of town, you must seal off any open doors to other relationships. Your wife must become your only source of romance.

Being pretty and nice does not make a good wife or husband. You have to also consider if the person loves God.

Only Jesus can satisfy the deepest longings of my soul; not my husband, not getting my way, not being in control, not worldly happiness, not romance, not feeling loved

I wish to be your man . . . your husband. I want you for my wife.” He gazed intently at her. His eyes spoke of hope and expectation. Her own eyes widened in surprise. “You want what?” She exhaled incredulously. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind raced so fast, she couldn’t hold on to one coherent thought. “I am a good provider, and I will protect you with my life,” Daniel stated passionately.

The bond of husband to his wife is divine.

Placing his mouth next to her ear, he breathed. "I want to be alone with my wife, Lady O'Brien." He felt the goose bumps rise on her skin and the shiver his breath caused. She let her head fall back and the lust-filled look in her eyes made him weak in the knees. "And I with my husband, Lord O'Brien.

A good wife always forgives her husband when she's wrong." —Milton Berle

The greatest love stories are not written by the ink of the pen, but by the ink of the heart.

to keep that moment in her heart. Each morning when she saw the house she worked for growing from the horizon it appeared to be bigger. At first, it marveled Eliza, but soon it plagued her. The bigger the house seemed, the harder it was to care for. There were times when the family wasn’t home. They enjoyed to travel. The husband, wife, and two daughters would travel by train and visit parts of the country that Eliza couldn’t imagine

The more silent you are at bed during times of crisis, the more are the chances of an amicable, dignified and a not so counterproductive interchange of romantic exuberance.

If men could be bought like clothes at an outlet, only then would women always get what they bargained for.

Good day everybody, am marina i have a testimony to talk about.. i happened to meet a certain spell caster who was introduced to me by my friend who was suffering from cancer for 2yrs.. she told me how are cancer was cured by a certain spiritualist named agbalagba, i needed to meet himn because i was having problems with my marriage and my business.. my husband was an alchoholic drunk and it gave me sleepless night as wife and a mother.. i contacted gbalagba and he promised to restore everything in my life back again, today am really happy and over joyed because he kept his promise.. i promised to tell the world of his greatness, contact him through this email.. agbalagbatemple@yahoo.com

Memories of lost love they do enpain, Fleeting images of what once was never again to gain. Hold tight those memories that slip through the mind, To walk in those fields again with her—a dream divined. Oh to be with that lost Valkyrie forevermore again, To hold her hand delicate until the last world’s end. To be at peace once amore in deep loving soul, Husband to wife in embracing hold. How he loved her so, but she was now gone, Leaf to the wind, heart tossed and tumbled torn. Memories like arrows stick deep—ohhh so deep, Shafts of pain and joy assail the soul’s lonely keep. --Angel-Heart, Ch. 22 Valley of the Damned

Love is the greatest drug; joy is the strongest medicine; virtue is the noblest remedy; together, they are the greatest therapy.

If a man found his dream wife, it was because he was wide awake.

Dear Charles, she wrote. After writing to express my appreciation for all the generosity of our friends, I would be remiss indeed if I did not include a missive to you. Out of all the new blessings in my new life, the one I thank God for the most is you. I thank you for writing to me through Genteel Correspondence, and for choosing me out of all the other women eager for adventure in the wild west. I thank you for your kindness, and your gentleness toward me. Only very strong men can be gentle. I thank you for sharing your home and your life with me. I thank you for inventing delicious breakfasts. And chicory flavored coffee. And prayers that ease my mind and inspire my spirit and lift my heart. For your smile and the way you hold your hat in your hands. For the things you say and how you say them. Did you know that I pray for you each day? I do. I pray for your safety and happiness. Yours in Christ, Rose

If she could take my strength. He put his hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. If she could have some of my heart's strength. I'd give years of my life, Lord, if she could use them." He looked at her peaceful face, again looking at her beating pulse. Life seemed so fragile to him. She had become, in such a short time, infinitely precious to him. "A daughter of God. Your daughter, Lord. My wife.