Marriage is nature's way of keeping us from fighting with

Hear now the wry but timeless words of Alan King, the great humorist of the modern age: “Marriage is nature’s way of keeping us from fighting with strangers.” Though spoken in jest, these words carry the laughter of truth. For behind the humor lies the ancient recognition that marriage, that sacred and maddening bond, is the forge in which human patience, understanding, and humility are tested and refined. In the quarrels and reconciliations of two souls bound together, we learn not only the art of love, but the art of restraint. Thus, nature herself, in her cunning wisdom, has given us companionship so that we might temper our tempests at home rather than unleash them upon the world.

Alan King, a man whose comedy was born from observation, understood that humor often grows from pain and paradox. His words, though playful, spring from the soil of domestic truth. In every household, there are battles great and small—over pride, over misunderstanding, over the little vanities of the heart. Yet these struggles are not curses, but lessons. Marriage is not merely a romance—it is a mirror held before the soul. When two people live side by side, there is no escaping the self. Every impatience, every weakness, every flaw stands revealed. And in that daily friction, we are forced to learn compassion, tolerance, and humility—or be consumed by our own fire.

When King says that marriage keeps us from “fighting with strangers,” he means this: that our quarrels, our frustrations, and our unspoken storms find their arena within the home. The partnership becomes both refuge and battlefield—a place where we can safely express our emotions, rather than unleashing them upon the world. It is as though nature, in her infinite wisdom, created this bond not only for procreation, but for the taming of the spirit. For the one who has learned to live in peace with another—despite difference, fatigue, or habit—has learned the first law of harmony.

Consider the story of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. Theirs was a marriage forged not of ease, but of trial. They endured betrayal, illness, and the immense pressure of leadership. There were times when love seemed shadowed by distance, yet they never turned their struggles outward. Instead, they transformed their discord into service and strength. Through the furnace of their union, both grew into greatness—she as a voice for justice, he as a leader through crisis. Their marriage, though imperfect, became a crucible for character. In learning to live together, they learned to lead with compassion toward strangers.

In this way, marriage is nature’s discipline, soft and stern. It teaches us to endure the friction of difference without destruction. It demands that we listen even when we wish to shout, and forgive even when pride protests. In the household, we learn what no teacher can impart: that peace is not the absence of conflict, but the triumph of understanding. The lessons learned there ripple outward—shaping how we speak to friends, to neighbors, to the world. The home becomes a small kingdom of humanity, where love and patience are forged like iron in the fire.

Yet, Alan King’s humor reminds us not to take even this sacred labor too seriously. To laugh at our quarrels is to rise above them. To see the comedy in our imperfections is to acknowledge that we are, all of us, fallible creatures trying our best. Laughter becomes a form of forgiveness, a salve upon the daily wounds of pride. Thus, humor itself becomes a quiet act of love—a recognition that what binds us is greater than what divides us.

So, my children of the heart, learn from these words of jest turned wisdom. Do not fear the storms within your marriage or your home, for they are the winds that teach you how to stand firm and gentle. Quarrel less with the world, and if you must quarrel, let it be in laughter. See in your partner not an adversary, but the mirror of your own spirit. For it is in that shared struggle, that daily negotiation of hearts, that true understanding is born.

And when you hear Alan King’s words—“Marriage is nature’s way of keeping us from fighting with strangers”—let them remind you that love is both the battlefield and the peace treaty of the soul. In the struggle to live kindly with one, we learn how to live kindly with all. In that humble training ground of the home, the world itself is healed, one argument—and one laugh—at a time.