I think that's one of the most difficult things in any marriage -

“I think that’s one of the most difficult things in any marriage — in order to build anything, you must be together. You can’t build anything over the telephone.” — These words of Julie London, spoken with the quiet wisdom of a woman who knew both the beauty and the ache of love, ring through the ages like a soft bell in an empty hall. In her simple truth lies an eternal principle: that presence is the foundation of all that endures. One cannot create love from a distance, nor raise a home upon the shifting sands of absence. To build is to be near — not merely in body, but in heart, in patience, and in time shared.

From the beginning of the world, all that has lasted was built through togetherness. The pyramids were not raised by orders shouted across the desert wind; they rose by the hands of many, standing side by side under the sun. So too is the temple of marriage constructed — not by words spoken across wires or screens, but by the sacred rhythm of two lives lived in unity. For the language of love is not sound, but gesture — a glance, a shared meal, a hand held when silence feels heavy. No telephone, no message, no promise can replace the quiet strength of being truly there.

In the age of separation, where distance can be bridged in an instant yet hearts grow ever further apart, London’s words sound like prophecy. She reminds us that love is not maintained by constant communication alone, but by shared living. To build anything — a family, a dream, a bond — requires the soil of presence. The ancients knew this well: in their temples, lovers prayed not for passion to remain unbroken, but for companionship to endure. They knew that love unattended fades like a fire left unwatched — beautiful once, but cold in the morning.

Consider the tale of Odysseus and Penelope, who were parted for twenty long years by war and wandering. Though their love was strong, both knew that absence is a storm that tests even the deepest roots. Penelope held fast to faith, weaving by day and unweaving by night, but her heart longed not for his voice or his letters — but for his presence. When at last he returned, weary and scarred, it was their reunion, their being together again, that restored the kingdom of their hearts. The lesson is eternal: love cannot grow in exile; it thrives only where two souls meet face to face.

To build is to labor, to shape, to sweat, to endure. So too must a couple labor for their union — not in grand gestures, but in the quiet discipline of daily closeness. To eat together, to walk together, to argue and forgive beneath the same roof — these are the bricks and mortar of love’s enduring house. When one lives apart too long, the walls crack and dust gathers; even the strongest foundation weakens when left untended. Thus, the ancients said, “The hearth must be kept burning, lest the spirit of the home depart.”

London’s truth reaches beyond marriage alone; it speaks to all forms of creation. You cannot build a friendship, a dream, or a legacy without presence. A sculptor cannot shape marble from afar, nor can a gardener tend a field by letter. So too must the builders of love come near to their craft. To share time is to invest spirit; to share silence is to deepen trust. Distance may preserve affection for a while, but only closeness gives it life.

And so, O listener, take this teaching to heart: presence is the price of creation. If you wish to build something lasting — in love, in family, or in purpose — draw near to it. Do not let the illusion of connection replace the truth of companionship. Put down the device, cross the miles, look into the eyes of those you cherish. Speak less, and be there more. For a thousand messages cannot equal one shared sunset, nor a hundred calls replace a single embrace.

Remember, then, the wisdom of Julie London: to build anything, you must be together. Love, like stone, demands the builder’s hand. Honor it by your presence; strengthen it with your time. For in the end, it is not words that hold the world together — it is the souls who choose, again and again, to stand side by side and build.