A good marriage is one which allows for change and growth in the

In the luminous words of Pearl S. Buck, the great chronicler of human hearts and the quiet revolutions within them, we find a truth that transcends time: “A good marriage is one which allows for change and growth in the individuals and in the way they express their love.” These words, gentle yet profound, contain the secret of enduring companionship. They remind us that love, if it is to live, must move as life moves—it must breathe, bend, and renew itself with the passing of years. For love that stands still, like water that does not flow, will soon grow stagnant. But love that allows growth—that welcomes transformation, both in self and in the beloved—becomes as eternal as the seasons that shape the earth.

The origin of this quote lies in the life and wisdom of Pearl S. Buck, an author who lived between worlds—East and West, tradition and change, the old and the new. Having grown up in China as the daughter of missionaries, she saw how human relationships were molded not only by culture but by the inner evolution of the heart. Her experiences taught her that marriage cannot be bound by rigid forms; it must evolve alongside the souls who inhabit it. In her own life, Buck endured the strains of a difficult marriage before finding a partnership that honored both independence and intimacy. From this, she came to see that true union is not the merging of two beings into one, but the harmonious dance of two growing spirits who choose to walk together while still becoming themselves.

The ancients, too, understood this divine balance. In the wisdom of Heraclitus, we read that “everything flows, nothing stands still.” The same law that governs rivers and stars governs the human heart. Marriage, in this light, is not a static vow carved in stone, but a living covenant renewed with each sunrise. When Buck speaks of allowing “change and growth,” she calls us to the courage of flexibility—to the humility of accepting that both we and our beloved will not remain as we once were. The man and woman who wed in youth will, through time, become strangers and companions all at once; and in that strangeness lies the beauty of rediscovery.

Consider the tale of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, whose love began in youthful ardor but deepened through decades of shared struggle. Their marriage was not without storms—differences in temperament, burdens of power, and the demands of empire tested them. Yet they allowed each other to grow, to change, to fail, and to rise again. When Albert died, Victoria mourned not only a husband, but the other half of her own becoming. Their love endured not because it was unchanging, but because it was ever-renewing, like a flame that adjusts to the wind rather than resists it. Their union stands as a testament to Buck’s wisdom: true love does not resist transformation—it is transformation.

So often, people seek to preserve love by holding it too tightly, fearing that change will diminish it. Yet Buck teaches the opposite: that growth is the proof of love, not its undoing. To allow one’s partner to evolve, to chase new dreams, to wrestle with new truths—this is the highest form of devotion. For love that is pure does not bind; it liberates. It says, “I love who you are, and I will love who you become.” And so, within this freedom, both souls ascend—they grow not apart, but upward, as two vines climbing toward the same sun.

There is a sacred humility in this teaching. To love another deeply means to let go of illusion: the illusion that time will not alter us, that affection alone is enough. It is to accept the storms and silences as part of the journey, to find beauty in the shifting patterns of the heart. The ancients might have called this wisdom agape—the love that gives without demand, that endures beyond form. Buck, in her modern tongue, gives it human form: a love that changes, yet remains; that bends, yet does not break.

The lesson, then, is clear: if you wish to build a good marriage, do not seek permanence in sameness—seek permanence in renewal. Let your love evolve as your hearts evolve. Speak differently, touch differently, forgive differently as the years unfold. When you see change in your partner, do not mourn the loss of who they were; rejoice in the birth of who they are becoming. For marriage, as Buck teaches, is not a cage—it is a garden. And in a garden, growth is not chaos; it is the very sign of life.

So let this wisdom be passed down as a living truth: to love well is to grow together, to embrace the tides of time with grace, to find in each transformation a new reason to love. A marriage that welcomes change becomes a mirror of the universe itself—ever expanding, ever unfolding, and always filled with light. For in the end, as Pearl S. Buck reminds us, love’s truest strength lies not in its constancy, but in its capacity to change and yet remain love still.