That is how our marriage is working so well. My secret of

In the words of Cyrus Broacha, “That is how our marriage is working so well. My secret of happiness is keeping my contact to the minimum.” On the surface, these words sparkle with humor, for Broacha — a man of wit and jest — speaks with the tongue of comedy. Yet beneath this playful confession lies a truth known to both the wise and the weary: that harmony in human bonds often rests not on constant closeness, but on the gentle art of space. The ancients might have smiled at such a saying, for it reflects a timeless understanding — that love, like fire, needs both presence and distance to burn steadily. Too much contact, and the flame consumes itself; too little, and it dies.

The origin of this quote lies in Broacha’s reflections on his own marriage, delivered with the humor that is his hallmark. Known as a comedian, satirist, and keen observer of human folly, he often disguises wisdom in laughter. Yet through his jest, he reveals a philosophy older than the temples of Greece or the scriptures of the East: that balance is the guardian of joy. His “secret of happiness” — to limit contact — is not a call for detachment, but for respect. In love, as in all relationships, one must learn to preserve the mystery of the other, to give breath to togetherness by allowing room for solitude.

The ancients understood this paradox well. Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher, wrote that even in friendship and affection, one must “allow the other to be as he is.” The Stoics taught that love without boundaries becomes dependence, and dependence breeds resentment. In the East, the Taoists spoke of harmony through balance — the eternal dance of yin and yang, where closeness and distance form the rhythm of peace. Broacha’s jest, then, carries within it the wisdom of sages: that love suffocates when it clings too tightly, and flourishes when it breathes freely.

Consider the story of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, whose marriage was legendary for its devotion. Yet even in their passion, they honored separation. When Albert retreated to his study or his pursuits of reform, Victoria did not intrude but waited, knowing that his return would renew their affection. And when she ruled or mourned or worked, he gave her the dignity of space. Their letters, written even while they lived in the same palace, glowed with tenderness precisely because they allowed one another to remain individuals within union. This is the heart of Broacha’s truth: that companionship thrives on boundaries, and that the sweetest affection grows from freedom, not control.

The modern world, however, forgets this lesson. Lovers and partners often mistake constant contact for connection, believing that true love means never leaving the other’s side. But just as a garden needs intervals of sun and shadow, so too does the heart need silence to remember affection. Broacha’s “minimal contact” is not neglect; it is the space where appreciation grows. When two souls step back from each other, they see one another more clearly. Absence, when rooted in trust, sharpens love like a whetstone sharpens a blade.

There is, too, humility in this saying. Broacha’s humor reflects self-awareness — an understanding that happiness in marriage requires not perfection, but perspective. To “keep contact to the minimum” is also to keep ego to the minimum: to resist the urge to dominate, to control, or to impose one’s presence upon the other. The wise partner, like the wise ruler, knows when to step back. Silence, patience, and humor become the invisible pillars of harmony.

The lesson, then, is this: in love, give space as you give affection. Do not measure closeness by proximity, but by peace. Let your partner breathe, and let yourself breathe, for love is not a cage but a current — it flows best when unforced. Take time apart to nourish your own spirit, to cultivate your own joys, so that when you return, you bring fullness, not fatigue.

So, O listener, remember the wisdom hidden in Cyrus Broacha’s jest: even laughter can carry the voice of truth. The secret of happiness is not endless contact, but the balance of presence and peace. Love does not need constant proof; it needs quiet understanding. To love wisely is to walk side by side — close enough to feel warmth, but far enough to let light fall between. For it is in that light that love lives, and in that space that happiness endures.