Wedding Quotes - Marriage is a
garden that requires two gardeners to care for it
“Big Ma said, “I don’t know why
we have to make a grand Negro spectacle out of everything. I’ll get my hat.”
― Rita Williams-Garcia, Gone
Crazy in Alabama
“So a true fairy-tale wedding is
not, like most British royal weddings, a reinforcement of a state institution
through the medium of organ music and enormous dresses. A true fairy-tale
wedding would be one in which secret desires leak out: one in which the aging
prince, tired of waiting for his throne, turns into a wolf and eats the queen.”
― Katherine Rundell, Vanishing
Treasures: A Bestiary of Extraordinary Endangered Creatures
“Color was a false distinction,
love was not.”
― Dorothy West, The Wedding: A
Novel
“Fine. Will you wear a wedding ring?”
The question was absurd. “No.”
“So, I have to wear one, but you
don’t?”
“It’s different.”
“You mean, it’s sexist?”
― Penelope Sky, The Wolf and the
Sheep
“But life isn't like one of my novels, where I
can change the characters' circumstances.”
― Justine Castellon, The Last
Snowfall
“My mouth went paper-dry as Alis
fluffed out the sparkling train of my gown in the shadow of the garden doors.
Silk and gossamer rustled and sighed, and I gripped the pale bouquet in my
gloved hands, nearly snapping the stems.
Elbow-length silk gloves- to hide
the marking. Ianthe had delivered them herself this morning in a velvet-lined
box.
'Don't be nervous,' Alis
chuckled, her tree-bark skin rich and flushed in the honey gold evening light.
'I'm not,' I rasped.
'You're fidgeting like my
youngest nephew during a haircut.' She finished fussing over my dress, shooing
away some servants who'd come to spy on me before the ceremony. I pretended I
didn't see them or the glittering, sunset-gilded crowd seated in the courtyard
ahead, and toyed with some invisible fleck on my skirts.
'You look beautiful,' Alis said
quietly. I was fairly certain her thoughts on the dress were the same as my
own, but I believed her.
'Thank you.'
'And you sound like you're going
to your funeral.'
I plastered a grin on my face.
Alis rolled her eyes. But she nudged me toward the doors as they opened on some
immortal wind, lilting music streaming in. 'It's be over faster than you can
blink,' she promised, and gently nudged me into the last of the sunlight.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist
and Fury
“Marriage is a garden that
requires two gardeners to care for it.”
― Nate Hamon
“According to Arch-Aunt
Schadenfreude, a funeral ought to look like a wedding upside down.”
― Beth Lincoln, A Dictionary of
Scoundrels
“Somewhere a girl is working as a
waitress in a new city, clean break and sees a guy who got stood up on a blind
date.
She never tells him why the clean
break, why the move, they date and then the wedding is called off years later.
This happens once a week
somewhere in America.”
― stained hanes, 94,000 Wasps in
a Trench Coat
“The cultivation world did not
care about wedding attendants, and would not have the female cultivator wear a
veil. Supposedly, a thousand years ago, a male cultivator from the mortal world
wanted the female cultivator he was marrying to wear a veil. The female
cultivator then beat him up.
After the beating, the female
cultivator said, what bad habit was this? Other men could not look at a woman’s
face at the wedding banquet but a man’s face could be seen by other women?
Their path union ceremony was
cancelled because of this. The male cultivator’s tragic and true experience
helped speed up the equality between genders in the cultivation world. At
least, not many male cultivators dared to have female cultivators do things
that they themselves were not willing to do.”
― Yue Xia Die Ying, Ascending, Do
Not Disturb
“He slides my ruby ring off his
finger. 'I, Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, take you, Jude Duarte,
mortal ward of Madoc, to be my bride and my queen. Let us be wed until we wish
for it to be otherwise and the crown has passed from our hands.'
As he speaks, I begin to tremble
with something between hope and fear. The words he's saying are so momentous
that they're surreal, especially here, in Eldred's own rooms. Time seems to
stretch out. Above us, the branches begin to bud, as though the land itself
heard the words he spoke.
Catching my hand, he slides the
ring on. The exchange of rings is not a faerie ritual, and I am surprised by
it.
'Your turn,' he says in to the
silence. He gives me a grin. 'I'm trusting you to keep your word and release me
from my bond of obedience after this.'
I smile back, which maybe makes
up for the way that I froze after he finished speaking. I still can't quite
believe this is happening. My hand tightens on his as I speak. 'I, Jude Duarte,
take Cardan, High King of Elfhame, to be my husband. Let us be wed until we
don't want to be and the crown has passed from our hands.'
He kisses the scar of my palm.
I still have his brother's blood
under my fingernails.
I don't have a ring for him.
Above us, the buds are blooming.
The whole room smells of flowers.
Drawing back, I speak again,
pushing away all thoughts of Balekin, of the future in which I am going to have
to tell him what I've done. 'Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, I
forsake any command over you. You are free of your vow of obedience, for now
and for always.'
He lets out a breath and stands a
bit unsteadily. I can't quite wrap my head around the idea that I am... I can't
even think the words. Too much has happened tonight.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King
“Alis coughed from the shadows of
the house, and I remembered to start walking, to look toward the dais-
At Tamlin.
The breath knocked from me, and
it was an effort to keep going down the stairs, to keep going my knees from
buckling. He was resplendent in a tunic of green and gold, a crown of burnished
laurel leaves gleaming on his head. He'd loosened the grip on his glamour,
letting that immortal light and beauty shine through- for me.
My vision narrowed on him, on my
High Lord, his wide eyes glistening as I stepped onto the soft grass, white
rose petals scattered down it-
And Red ones.
Like drops of blood amongst the
white, red petals had been sprayed across the path ahead.
I forced my gaze up, to Tamlin,
his shoulders back, head high.
So unaware of the true extent of
how broken and dark I was inside. How unfit I was to be clothed in white when
my hands were so filthy.
Everyone else was thinking it.
They had to be.
Every step was too fast,
propelling me toward the dais and Tamlin. And toward Ianthe, clothed in dark
blue robes tonight, beaming beneath the hood and silver crown.
As if I were good- as if I hadn't
murdered two of their kind.
I was a murderer and a liar.
A cluster of red petals loomed
ahead- just like the Fae youth's blood had pooled at my feet.
Ten steps from the dais, at the
edge of that splatter of red, I slowed.
Then stopped.
Everyone was watching, exactly as
they had when I'd nearly died, spectators to my torment.
Tamlin extended a broad hand,
brows narrowing slightly. My heart beat so fast, too fast.
I was going to vomit.
Right over those rose petals,
right over the grass and ribbons trailing into the ailse from the chairs
flanking it.
And between my skin and bones,
something thrummed and pounded, rising and pushing, lashing through my blood-
So many eyes, too many eyes,
pressed on me, witness to every crime I'd committed, every humiliation-
I don't know why I'd even
bothered to wear gloves, why I'd let Ianthe convince me.
The fading sun was too hot, the
garden too hedged in. As inescapable as the vow I was about to make, binding me
to him forever, shackling him to my broken and weary soul. The thing inside me was
roiling now, my body shaking with the building force of it as it hunted for a
way out-
Forever- I would never get
better, never get free of myself, of the dungeon where I'd spent three months-
'Feyre,' Tamlin said, his hand
steady, as he continued to reach for mine. The sun sank past the lip of the
western garden wall; shadows pooled, chilling the air.
If I turned away, they'd start
talking, but I couldn't make the last few steps, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't-
I was going to fall apart, right
there, right then- and they'd see precisely how ruined I was.
Help me, help me, help me, I
begged someone, anyone. Begged Lucien, standing in the front row, his metal eye
fixed on me. Begged Ianthe, face serene and patient and lovely within that
hood. Save me- please, save me. Get me out. End this.
Tamlin took a step toward me-
concern shading those eyes.
I retreated a step. No.
Tamlin's mouth tightened. The
crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into
life above and around us.
Ianthe said smoothly. 'Come,
Bride and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at
last.'
Good. I was not good. I was
nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul was damned-
I tried to get my traitorous
lungs to draw air so I could voice a word. No- no.
But I didn't have to say it.
Thunder crackled behind me, as if
two boulders have been hurled against each other.
People screamed, falling back, a
few vanishing outright as darkness erupted.
I whirled, and through the night
drifting away like smoke on a wind, I found Rhysand straightening the lapels of
his black jacket.
'Hello, Feyre darkling,' he
purred.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist
and Fury
“A wedding ceremony is that
ceremony where family and friends gather to witness a young man and woman
willingly sign away their freedom.”
― Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
“You want to bask in your perfect
marriage, with your perfect wife and kids, and gloat at the rest of the world!
Dont you? And now you've found a flaw, you cant stand it. Well, stand it,
Simon! Stand it! Because the world is full of flaws.”
― Madeleine Wickham, The Wedding
Girl
