A Quote by Ellen Glasgow

What a man marries for's hard to tell ... an' what a woman marries for's past findin' out. — © Ellen Glasgow
What a man marries for's hard to tell ... an' what a woman marries for's past findin' out.
The reclusive man who marries the gregarious woman, the timid woman who marries the courageous man, the idealist who marries the realist we can all see these unions: the marriages in which tenderness meets loyalty, where generosity sweetens moroseness, where a sense of beauty eases some aridity of the spirit, are not so easy for outsiders to recognize; the parties themselves may not be fully aware of such elements in a good match.
A man who marries a woman to educate her falls victim to the same fallacy as the woman who marries a man to reform him.
When a woman marries again, it is because she detested her first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs.
The Jew almost never marries a Christian woman; it is the Christian who marries a Jewess.
The English lord marries for love, and is rather inclined to love where money is; he rarely marries in order to improve his coat of arms.
He that marries late, marries ill.
He that marries is like the dogs who was married to the Adriatic. He knows not what there is in that which he marries; mayhap treasures and pearls, mayhap monsters and tempests, await him.
Nobody works as hard for his money as the man who marries it.
When a man marries a woman, they become one-the trouble starts when they try to decide which one.
There has to be something wrong when a man or a woman leaves his own people and marries somebody of another kind.
A woman's place, her entire experience in life, has been and in many places still is dependent upon the man she marries.
When a man marries a widow his jealousies revert to the past: no man is as good as his wife says her first husband was
When a man marries he takes a bigger risk than the woman, because she can march out with his kids, his money, his home, and his dog.
You can't change a man, no-ways. By the time his mummy turns him loose and he takes up with some innocent woman and marries her, he's what he is.
The terrible tabulation of the French statists brings every piece of whim and humor to be reducible also to exact numerical ratios. If one man in twenty thousand, or in thirty thousand, eats shoes, or marries his grandmother, then, in every twenty thousand, or thirty thousand, is found one man who eats shoes, or marries his grandmother.
He doesn't marry a woman who is perfect. He marries the woman who is interesting.
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