husband

God gave you the capacity to invent, work, create and to be brilliant.

Being called __ove_ or __y love_ by someone doesn__ necessarily mean that you are loved or even liked by them.

You cannot really get married by mistake. You can only marry the wrong person.

Ladies, being able to submit to your future husband requires a deeper trust in God who created him.

The only thing we can never get enough of is love. And the one thing we never give is enough love.

When you love someone, you end up caring about each and every person they love. When you hate someone, you end up caring about every single person who hates them.

Whenever you keep score in love, you lose.

Among the hundred thousand mysterious influences which a man exercises over a woman who loves him, I doubt if there is any more irresistible to her than the influence of his voice. I am not one of those women who shed tears on the smallest provocation: it is not in my temperament, I suppose. But when I heard that little natural change in his tone my mind went back (I can't say why) to the happy day when I first owned that I loved him. I burst out crying.

Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn__ you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.

mong the hundred thousand mysterious influences which a man exercises over a woman who loves him, I doubt if there is any more irresistible to her than the influence of his voice. I am not one of those women who shed tears on the smallest provocation: it is not in my temperament, I suppose. But when I heard that little natural change in his tone my mind went back (I can't say why) to the happy day when I first owned that I loved him. I burst out crying.

Like a pair of old slippers,I feel comfort andwarmth as I slip into you.No, that is too crude.Like the match to the wick,I ignite when we touch.My counterpart andlife's purpose.Yes, as though I've known you my whole life.Every scar, every failurehas become an affirmationof what should be:You.Yes, as though I've loved you my whole life.

With you, I am. Without you, I am not.

Am I the I she tried to save, still lopsided with trying to be a little less or more, escaping who I was a minute ago?

The only path wide for us all is love.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here__ another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

My wife divorced me because she could not trust me anymore.I never want a divorce because I love and care about our daughter.

Opposities are married.

There was a certain usefulness in having a husband whom most people could barely tolerate: it deflected envy, for one thing.