A good husband is healthy and absent.
A good husband makes a good wife.
A husband is a guy who tells you when you've got on too much lipstick and helps you with your girdle when your hips stick.
A husband is what's left of the lover after the nerve has been extracted.
A little in drink, but at all times your faithful husband.
An early-rising man… a good spouse but a bad husband.
Do let him read the papers. But not while you accusingly tiptoe around the room, or perch much like a silent bird of prey on the edge of your most uncomfortable chair. (He will read them anyway, and he should read them, so let him choose his own good time.) Don't make a big exit. Just go. But kiss him quickly, before you go, otherwise he might think you are angry; he is used to suspecting he is doing something wrong.
From the moment I liberated Brigitte, the moment I showed her how to be truly herself, our marriage was all downhill.
His purity was too great, his aspiration too high for this poor, miserable world! His great soul is now only enjoying that for which it was worthy!
Husbands are awkward things to deal with; even keeping them in hot water will not make them tender.
Husbands are like fires. They go out when unattended.
Husbands never become good; they merely become proficient.
I revere the memory of Mr. F. as an estimable man and most indulgent husband, only necessary to mention Asparagus and it appeared or to hint at any little delicate thing to drink and it came like magic in a pint bottle; it was not ecstasy but it was comfort.
I think every woman's entitled to a middle husband she can forget.
I think there's something degrading about having a husband for a rival. It's humiliating if you fail and commonplace if you succeed.
I've had the boyhood thing of being Elvis. Now I want to be with my best friend, and my best friend's my wife. Who could ask for anything more?
I've never yet met a man who could look after me. I don't need a husband. What I need is a wife.
In marriage, a man becomes slack and selfish, and undergoes a fatty degeneration of his moral being.
No man worth his salt, no man of spirit and spine, no man for whom I could have any respect, could rejoice in the identification of Tallulah's husband. It's tough enough to be bogged down in a legend. It would be even tougher to marry one.
Personally, I can't see why it would be any less romantic to find a husband in a nice four-color catalogue than in the average downtown bar at happy hour.