Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage

Host: The soft glow of the evening sun poured through the window, casting warm, golden light across the room. The shadows stretched long, growing ever softer as the night crept in. Jack stood by the window, his gaze lost in the horizon, the world beyond fading into the stillness of evening. Jeeny sat across from him, mug in hand, her fingers tracing the rim as she watched him, waiting for the moment to speak. The air in the room felt thick with quiet reflection, as though the weight of the world outside had slowed down, leaving space for something deeper to be discussed.

Host: The city outside was slowly transitioning into night, the fading light leaving behind a sense of calm. Inside, the room was still, yet charged with the anticipation of a conversation waiting to unfold. Jeeny shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes soft, yet focused on Jack. Finally, the silence between them broke, her voice gently piercing the quiet.

Jeeny: “I was thinking about something George Eliot said: ‘Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and duty.’ Do you believe that’s true, Jack? That children embody the perfect balance of these two things, where love and duty exist together in harmony?”

Jack: He turned from the window slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed her words. “I don’t know. There’s something about the idea of children being the perfect symbol of love and duty that seems... overly romanticized. Children are innocent, sure, but that doesn’t mean they understand or even embody those two concepts fully. Duty, in its true sense, is a heavy word. It’s about responsibility, about fulfilling obligations — not exactly something you see a lot of in children. Love is different, it’s pure, it’s instinctive. But it’s not necessarily attached to duty.”

Jeeny: Her eyes softened, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice steady but filled with compassion. “I think you’re missing the point, Jack. Children, in their purest form, embody both. Love, in its truest sense, is unconditional. And duty? For them, it’s instinctive — it’s about caring for those around them, about the simple responsibility of being part of a family. They don’t think about it as duty, but it’s there, in how they care, in how they learn to share and be present. Children live with both love and duty without even thinking about it. That’s why they can symbolize the eternal balance between the two.”

Jack: He took a deep breath, his eyes drifting to the floor for a moment, as if reconsidering her words. “But does that really last? As children grow, doesn’t the love get more complicated? Doesn’t duty start to feel more like an obligation, something they resist? I don’t know, duty can feel so much like a burden, not something you embrace. As adults, we struggle to keep that balance.”

Jeeny: “Yes, but that’s the challenge of growing up, isn’t it? Adults often lose sight of the balance between love and duty because life becomes complicated. But children, they don’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders. They naturally give and receive love, and they do so without expecting anything in return, simply because it’s their nature. And duty? They instinctively know what they owe to the people around them, even if it’s something small. That’s the beauty of childhood — it’s uncomplicated.”

Jack: He folded his arms, the tension in his posture still present. “But when we grow up, we complicate everything. We get consumed by the need for control, by the idea of what we owe to the world, to each other, to ourselves. Maybe that’s why we don’t see that same balance. When we’re no longer children, we start seeing duty as a burden and love as something that needs to be earned, not something freely given.”

Jeeny: She smiled softly, her eyes warm with understanding. “That’s exactly why children can teach us. They show us what it looks like to love without boundaries and to fulfill duty without questioning. The ideal balance that they represent — it’s not that they never struggle with it, but that they begin in a place of purity, a connection to both love and duty without the weight of expectations. It’s the simplicity of that balance that makes them a symbol of it.”

Host: The silence between them deepened, the weight of their conversation settling into the quiet of the room. The light from the window was now a soft, dim glow, and the city outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving the two of them alone in their shared understanding. Jack stood still for a moment, his gaze distant, as if working through the depth of their words. Jeeny remained still, her expression one of quiet understanding, as though she had found peace in what had been said.

Jack: “I think I get it now. Maybe we don’t see the balance between love and duty as clearly when we’re adults because we get distracted by everything else. Children live it because it’s pure, because they haven’t been taught to complicate it. Maybe we need to go back to that place, to that simplicity.”

Jeeny: She smiled, the softness of her smile reaching her eyes. “Yes. Children remind us that the truest form of love and duty is simple, without the weight we place on them. Maybe that’s something we could all learn from, to remember the balance between the two, and how to live them in a way that isn’t complicated by the world around us.”

Host: The night outside had fully settled in, but inside, there was a stillness — a peace that came from understanding the depth of their conversation. Jack and Jeeny had found common ground in the realization that love and duty, while often seen as burdens in adulthood, could be lived with a purity and simplicity if we approached them as children do — with open hearts and natural responsibility.

The evening had reached its quiet resolution, and with it, the understanding that sometimes, the greatest truths are found in the simplest of balances, in the way children show us how to love and fulfill our duties without complication.