The difficulty with marriage is that we fall in love with a

“The difficulty with marriage is that we fall in love with a personality, but must live with a character.” These words by Peter De Vries strike at the very heart of human relationships — the tension between illusion and reality, between the charm that attracts us and the substance that sustains us. Personality is the bright flame that draws two souls together; it dazzles the senses, speaks with laughter, and dances with light. But character is the hearth-fire that must keep burning when the first blaze fades. It is the quiet strength, the discipline, the truth of a person revealed not in moments of passion, but in the long trials of shared living.

In the early days of love, the personality is like the spring bloom — radiant, intoxicating, and alive with fragrance. It is what we see on the surface: the wit, the charm, the voice that stirs the heart. Yet marriage, as the ancients often said, is not a season but a lifetime. When the storms of years sweep through, it is character that endures — honesty, patience, humility, loyalty, and the courage to grow together even when the journey is rough. A house built only on beauty will collapse under the weight of time; but a home founded upon virtue can withstand a thousand tempests.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius and his wife Faustina, the Roman emperor and the woman history remembers with mixed judgment. Faustina was said to be spirited and often unfaithful, yet Marcus, guided by his stoic nature, bore her faults with grace and restraint. He wrote in his meditations not of bitterness, but of gratitude — for in living beside her, he learned the art of endurance and the deeper meaning of compassion. He fell in love with her personality, perhaps, but he lived through her character, and in doing so, revealed his own. This is the secret De Vries hints at: in marriage, one’s character is not only endured but tested and refined.

For character is not static; it grows like a tree through the seasons. To love a person’s character is to embrace not what they are now, but what they may become. A marriage, then, is not a sculpture — finished and admired — but a garden tended through sun and rain. The laughter that once bound two lovers together must one day yield to mutual respect, shared burdens, and the quiet joy of companionship. Those who cannot make this sacred transition, who cling only to the thrill of personality, will find themselves estranged from the soul they once adored.

There is wisdom here for all who dream of love. Do not mistake affection for understanding, nor charm for virtue. The first makes you smile; the second gives you peace. The first awakens desire; the second sustains faith. To truly know another is to watch how they act when no one is looking, how they speak when angered, and how they treat those who cannot repay them. These are the glimpses of character — the quiet truths that define a person’s inner worth.

The modern heart, so easily enchanted by image and performance, must learn again the old lesson: that love is not the art of admiration, but of endurance. When two souls meet, they see each other through the shining veil of personality. When they marry, that veil falls away, revealing the raw, unadorned essence of human nature. It is there that real love either falters or begins anew. For love is not the finding of perfection, but the forgiveness of imperfection — the daily choosing of another even when the glow of novelty fades.

Let us, then, teach those who come after us: when you fall in love, look beyond the laughter and the light. Ask not only, “Does this person make me happy?” but “Can this person be true when life grows dark?” Seek the one whose character is stronger than circumstance, whose heart is steadier than charm. And when you find them, nurture that bond with humility, honesty, and grace. For in the long story of marriage, it is not the beauty of the beginning that matters, but the steadfastness of the end.

Thus the lesson of De Vries stands eternal: marriage is the union not of personalities, but of characters. The first gives delight; the second gives destiny. Those who understand this truth will not fear the years, for they will walk them hand in hand — not blinded by illusion, but illumined by love that has ripened into wisdom.