Use great prudence and circumspection, in choosing thy wife, for from thence will spring all thy future good or evil; and it is an action of life like unto a stratagem of war, wherein a man can err but once.
A. You make sure: 1. That my clothes and laundry are kept in good order and repair; 2. that I receive my three meals regularly in my room; 3. that my bedroom and my office are always kept neat, in particular, that the desk is available to me alone.
B. You renounce all personal relations with me as far as maintaining them is not absolutely required for social reasons. Specifically, you do without: 1. my sitting at home with you; 2. my going out or traveling together with you.
C. In you relations with me you commit yourself explicitly to adhering to the following points: 1.You are neither to expect intimacy from me nor to reproach me in any way. 2. You must desist immediately from addressing me, if I request it. 3. You must leave my bedroom or office immediately without protest if I so request.
D. You commit yourself not to disparage me either in word or in deed in front of my children.
Albert Einstein, quoted in, Einstein: A Biography, 2007, Jürgen Neffe, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, ISBN 0374146640ISBN 978-0374146641, p. 101 . Albert Einstein's estranged first wife, Mileva, arrived in Berlin in April 1914 with their two sons. As a condition of their living together, Albert imposed a set of rules on her which he expected to be strictly obeyed.
Gentlemen, to the lady without whom I should never have survived for eighty, nor sixty, nor yet thirty years. Her smile has been my lyric, her understanding, the rhythm of the stanza. She has been the spring wherefrom I have drawn the power to write the words. She is the poem of my life.
Attributed to Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.. Not verified in works about him nor in Magnificent Yankee, the film about him. He expressed a similar sentiment in a letter to Sir Frederick Pollock (May 24, 1929): "For sixty years she made life poetry for me". Mark De Wolfe Howe, ed., Holmes-Pollock Letters (1941), vol. 2, p. 243.
I do not think it altogether inappropriate to introduce myself to this audience. I am the man who accompanied Jacqueline Kennedy to Paris, and I have enjoyed it.
John F. Kennedy, remarks at a press luncheon, Paris, France, June 2, 1961. The Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: John F. Kennedy, 1961, p. 429.
Sail forth into the sea of life,
O gentle, loving, trusting wife,
And safe from all adversity
Upon the bosom of that sea
Thy comings and thy goings be!
For gentleness and love and trust
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust;
And in the wreck of noble lives
Something immortal still survives.
An incautious congressman playfully ran his hand over Nick's shiny scalp and commented, "It feels just like my wife's backside". Nick instantly repeated the gesture. "So it does", he replied.
Nicholas Longworth. This episode was recounted in James Brough, Princess Alice, p. 273 (1975). A slightly different version is repeated in an article by E. Raymond Lewis in Capitol Studies, fall 1975, p. 125, and still later in R. B. and L. V. Cheney, Kings of the Hill, p. 157 (1983).
O wretched is the dame, to whom the sound,
"Your lord will soon return," no pleasure brings.
I will be master of what is mine own;
She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,
My household stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare.
Do you think it is so easy to get a divorce, when one does not have any proof of the guilt of the other party, when the latter is cunning and - I must say - mendacious? And I really don't even have proof that convinces me of the existence of facts that a court would regard as 'adultery'... On the other hand, I treat my wife like an employee which I cannot dismiss. I have my own bedroom, and I avoid being alone with her. … It is true that I committed adultery. I am living since about 41/2 years ago with my cousin, the widow Elsa Einstein, divorced Löwenthal, and have been in intimate relations with her continuously since then. My wife, the complainant, has known since summer 1914 that I am in intimate relations with my cousin. She has made me aware of her indignation about that.
Look you, Amanda, you may build Castles in the Air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin and lean, and pale and ugly, if you please. But I tell you, no Man worth having is true to his Wife, or can be true to his Wife, or ever was, or ever will be so.
Sir John Vanbrugh, "The Relapse; or, Virtue in Danger" (1759), act III, scene ii, Plays, p. 56. Berinthia is speaking.
My own experience of mescalin is described in the appendix of Beyond the Outsider. My 'trip' was pleasant enough, although I experienced none of the visual effects described by Huxley; I was plunged into an agreeable but sluggish dreaminess. In this torpid state, I became aware of the problem mentioned by Huxley: 'How was this cleansed perception to be reconciled with a proper concern with human relations . . . ?' -- in my case, with my concern for my wife and three-year-old daughter? Although I personally felt nothing but a sense of relaxation and trustfulness, I was aware that, in practice, the world is full of dangers, and in this state, I was incapable of the necessary vigilance; it made me feel guilty. I was neglecting my job of looking after them. Moreover, my ability to think was impaired. Huxley remarks that he found his own ability to remember and 'think straight' to be little, if at all, reduced. I could 'think straight', but I could not think to any purpose. Even the feeling of universal love was not particularly pleasant; I compared it to having a large alsation dog who puts his paws on your shoulder and licks your face.
Alas! another instance of the triumph of hope over experience.
Samuel Johnson. Referring to the second marriage of a friend who had been unfortunate in his first wife. Sir J. Hawkins's Collective Ed. of Johnson, 1787.
Being married to those sleepy-souled women is just like playing at cards for nothing: no passion is excited and the time is filled up. I do not, however, envy a fellow one of those honeysuckle wives for my part, as they are but creepers at best and commonly destroy the tree they so tenderly cling about.
Here were we fallen in a greate question of ye lawe whyther ye grey mare may be the better horse or not.
Thomas More, The Dial, Book II, Chapter V. The saying, "the grey mare is the better horse," is found in Camden's Remains, Proverb concerning Britain. (1605, reprint of 7th ed. 1870.) Also in A Treatyse shewing and declaring the Pryde and Abuse of Women Now a Dayse. (1550).
The best among you are those who are best to their wives.
Muhammad narrated in Ibn Majah, #1978, and Al-Tirmizi, #3895.
The Prophet (peace_be_upon_him) said: A man will not be asked as to why he beat his wife.
But what so pure, which envious tongues will spare?
Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair.
With matchless impudence they style a wife
The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;
A bosom-serpent, a domestic evil,
A night-invasion and a mid-day-devil.
Let not the wife these sland'rous words regard,
But curse the bones of ev'ry living bard.
Light household duties, ever more inwrought
With placid fancies of one trusting heart
That lives but in her smile, and turns
From life's cold seeming and the busy mart,
With tenderness, that heavenward ever yearns
To be refreshed where one pure altar burns.
Shut out from hence the mockery of life;
Thus liveth she content, the meek, fond, trusting wife.
Thou art mine, thou hast given thy word,
Close, close in my arms thou art clinging;
Alone for my ear thou art singing
A song which no stranger hath heard:
But afar from me yet, like a bird,
Thy soul in some region unstirr'd
On its mystical circuit is winging.
A love still burning upward, giving light
To read those laws; an accent very low
In blandishment, but a most silver flow
Of subtle-paced counsel in distress.
Right to the heart and brain, tho' undescried,
Winning its way with extreme gentleness
Thro' all the outworks of suspicious pride;
A courage to endure and to obey:
A hate of gossip parlance and of sway,
Crown'd Isabel, thro' all her placid life,
The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife.