Better a thousand enemies outside the house than one inside.
See Lyndon Johnson's remark about J. Edgar Hoover for a modern extrapolation.
Given two tempers and the time, the ordinary marriage produces anarchy.
By the time I had reached the age of 16, in the 10th grade, my parents, after 22 years of marriage, one day decided to get a divorce.
The trouble is that, while my parents were great when they were apart, they were terrible together.
Your woman pisses you off so that gets in there; that's rock n roll.
Millions of couples out there practiced the art of sadomasochism every day, without even realizing it. They went to work, came back, complained about everything, insulted their wife or were insulted by her, felt wretched, but were, nonetheless, tightly bound to their own unhappiness, not realizing that all it would take was a single gesture, a final goodbye, to free them from that oppression.
My husband used to shout at my mother, 'What is wrong with your daughter? I'm married to a man.'
When I can no longer bear to think of the victims of broken homes, I begin to think of the victims of intact ones.
Let those who once fought against brothers and relatives now rightfully fight against barbarians.
My wife and I lived all alone, contention was our only bone. I fought with her, she fought with me, and things went on right merrily. But now I live here by myself with hardly a damn thing on the shelf, and pass my days with little cheer since I have parted from my dear.
Never envy a man his lady. Behind it all lays a living hell.
I would have been long divorced if I got married.
It seemed like my father and I were always fighting. I know a lot of kids go through that with their families, but it was hard for me.
In 'Shadow Tag,' Erdrich creates scenes from a fictional marriage, that of two American Indians, Irene and her painter husband Gil, that suggest some of the worst psychological torments and stresses of real life.
Perhaps our greatest concern is with families. The family is falling apart all over the world. The old ties that bound together father and mother and children are breaking everywhere. We must face this in our own midst. There are too many broken homes among our own. The love that led to marriage somehow evaporates, and hatred fills its place. Hearts are broken, children weep.
My parents' marriage was very rocky. They were always arguing. When they split up when I was in my 20s, my brother and I were both delighted because we knew they weren't good for each other.
Never let a domestic quarrel ruin a day's writing. If you can't start the day fresh, get rid of your wife.
Maid Marion, who said to Robin Hood, I will not live in a house with a Little John. Never got a dinner!
I lived with my mother and father and brothers and sisters some of the time; some of the time, my mother and father were feuding, so my mother would take us to live in my grandmother's house.
Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves.
If I raised my hand to wipe the hair out of my children's eyes, they'd flinch and call their attorney.
For me, the brightest years at IronPort were without a doubt the darkest years at home.
A woman seldom comes out of a sullen spell until she's sure her husband has suffered as much as she thinks he should.
How close beneath the surface, even in the happiest family, is the chronic grievance! I sometimes think that tinderboxes are inert and powder kegs mere talcum compared to the explosive possibilities in the most commoplace domestic situation.
My parents argued more than I remembered, about money and all the little things that disguise the truth that you are still arguing about money.