Sometimes divorce is better than marriage.

In the voice of the elder and magnate Sumner Redstone, there falls a statement as sharp as truth and as sorrowful as wisdom hard-earned: “Sometimes divorce is better than marriage.” These words, though spoken in the modern age, carry the weight of an ancient realization—the understanding that not all unions are sacred, and not all bonds are meant to endure. It is a declaration not of cynicism, but of clarity; not of bitterness, but of release. Redstone, a man whose life was marked by great ambition and greater lessons, spoke what many feel but few dare to admit: that to end a broken thing can be an act of strength, not of failure.

The meaning of his words lies in the eternal dance between union and freedom. For generations, humanity has been taught to revere marriage as a symbol of permanence, a vessel to be endured rather than nurtured. Yet the ancients, too, knew that love without harmony becomes bondage, and duty without peace becomes despair. To cling to a union that poisons the heart is to betray the very spirit that marriage was meant to honor. Thus, when Redstone declares that “divorce is better,” he speaks to the truth that freedom born of honesty is nobler than loyalty born of suffering.

The origin of such wisdom often comes not from peace, but from the wreckage of experience. Sumner Redstone, who built empires of entertainment and power, also lived through the unraveling of relationships. In his long and complex life, he witnessed how human connection can be both sanctuary and snare. His words are not the verdict of a philosopher detached from life, but the confession of a man who understood that wealth and success cannot quiet a soul that remains imprisoned in unhappiness. In this sense, his quote becomes a mirror to the human condition—the acknowledgment that to end something false can sometimes be the only way to begin something true.

Consider, too, the story of Eleanor Roosevelt, whose marriage to Franklin D. Roosevelt was marked by betrayal and emotional distance. When she discovered his affair, she could have chosen to bind herself tighter in silence, as many women of her time did. Instead, she transformed her pain into purpose. Though she never divorced, she freed herself within the marriage, turning her focus toward humanitarian work and global service. Her strength lay not in submission, but in spiritual independence. In her story, as in Redstone’s words, lies the same lesson: that the sanctity of the soul is greater than the sanctity of form.

The ancients taught that even sacred bonds can become chains if they no longer serve growth. The philosopher Epictetus wrote, “If the horse you love grows lame, you must not ride it to ruin.” Likewise, if a relationship that once brought life becomes a source of decay, to persist in it is to sin against the self. Divorce, then, when born of reflection and necessity, becomes not destruction, but transformation—the shedding of what has died so that life may rise anew. It is not the death of love, but the rebirth of dignity.

Yet, Redstone’s statement carries warning as well as wisdom. To say that divorce may be better than marriage is not to glorify separation or dismiss the sacred work of partnership. It is a reminder that marriage without mutual respect is an illusion, and that no bond can thrive in deceit or apathy. A broken vow should be mourned, but it should not be worshiped. The courage to walk away must be matched by the humility to learn—so that the next union, whether with another or with oneself, is guided by clearer vision and deeper peace.

And so, O seeker of truth, take this lesson to heart: Do not measure love by endurance alone. Endurance without joy is not devotion, but denial. Whether in marriage, friendship, or any human bond, seek not the permanence of form, but the harmony of spirit. If the fire of love has turned to smoke, let it rise and disperse; do not choke upon its ashes. To let go when holding on destroys you is not weakness—it is wisdom, and it is mercy.

Thus, remember the words of Redstone not as lament, but as counsel for the brave. For sometimes, to end a union is to honor the truth it once held. Sometimes, divorce is better than marriage, not because it denies love, but because it refuses to imprison it. From such endings come new beginnings, and from such honesty, the soul finds its way back to peace.