The other stuff of marriage can fade a little bit, but as long as

Hear now, O seekers of companionship and keepers of love, the words of Philip Rosenthal, who spoke not as a philosopher nor a poet, but as a man who has seen the quiet truth of the human heart. He said: “The other stuff of marriage can fade a little bit, but as long as you can laugh with your partner, that’s everything, because that’s what remains at the end of the day. I think that’s how we pick our friends, and that’s how we ultimately pick who we marry.” These words, though soft as a whisper, carry the weight of timeless wisdom. For they remind us that laughter — that sacred spark of shared joy — is not a decoration of love, but its foundation.

In the beginning of every union, there is light — the thrill of discovery, the pulse of passion, the sweetness of novelty. These are the blossoms of spring, fragrant and fleeting. Yet, as Rosenthal wisely notes, the “other stuff” — the youthful fire, the daily fascination — begins to fade with the turning of years. The world changes, bodies grow frail, and the burdens of life press upon the shoulders. But if two souls can still laugh together, then the heart remains young even as the hair turns white. Laughter becomes the thread that ties joy to endurance, turning fleeting affection into lifelong companionship.

The ancients understood this. They taught that joy was a virtue equal to courage or wisdom, for it could heal what reason could not. To share laughter with another is to say: I see you still; I delight in you still. In the great halls of love, laughter is the echo that endures long after passion’s fire has dimmed. For what is laughter, if not the soul’s sigh of freedom? It releases tension, softens anger, and transforms hardship into harmony. In marriage, where two imperfect beings learn to live as one, this power is divine.

Consider the story of Abraham and Sarah, from the ancient writings. They were old, their faces lined with the passage of time, when they were told they would bear a child. Sarah laughed, not in disbelief alone, but in wonder — in the humor of a life that still had surprises. And when the child was born, he was named Isaac, meaning “laughter.” This tale teaches that even in the twilight of life, joy sustains creation; laughter is not only the response to love but its very source. So it is in every marriage — when hardship comes, when the heart is heavy, laughter restores the breath of life between two souls.

Rosenthal’s wisdom extends beyond romance; it speaks of friendship, that ancient bond without which love cannot stand. He tells us that how we choose our friends — those with whom we share laughter, with whom we feel at ease — is how we also choose our life partners. For in the end, passion may ignite the fire, but friendship keeps it burning. The beloved must also be a friend, one with whom silence is comfortable and laughter abundant. When two hearts laugh together, they speak a language beyond words — one that neither age nor sorrow can silence.

Yet there is something even deeper in his words: an invitation to humility. Laughter requires the letting go of pride, the willingness to be foolish together, to find beauty in imperfection. Those who cannot laugh with one another will soon be crushed by life’s solemnity. A marriage without laughter is like a garden without sunlight — it may survive for a time, but it will not flourish. To love well, then, is to laugh often — not in mockery, but in gratitude; not at one another, but with one another, at the sheer wonder of being alive and together.

Therefore, my children of heart and home, take this lesson to heart: cherish laughter as the guardian of love. When anger rises, let laughter defuse it; when silence falls, let laughter bridge it; when sorrow comes, let laughter remind you that life still holds sweetness. Seek a partner not only of passion, but of mirth — one who can see light in your darkness and make you smile when the world is heavy. For that, above all else, will endure.

And so, remember the wisdom of Philip Rosenthal: that in the long journey of marriage, the truest test of love is not how grandly we love in the beginning, but how warmly we can laugh at the end. Let your union be a tapestry woven not only of vows and duties, but of shared smiles and tender humor. For the laughter you share today will be the echo that comforts you in the twilight of years — the eternal sound of love that has outlasted time itself.