There are four stages in a marriage. First there's the affair

Hearken, children of life, to the words of Norman Mailer, a man who wrestled with both genius and folly, who spoke truths with the voice of a storm. He declared: “There are four stages in a marriage. First there's the affair, then the marriage, then children and finally the fourth stage, without which you cannot know a woman, the divorce.” This utterance is not meant to charm the ear, but to unsettle the heart, for it speaks of the perilous journey between man and woman, of love’s radiant beginning and of its ruinous end.

The first stage, says he, is the affair. In this beginning burns the fire of desire, the intoxicating mystery that draws one soul to another. It is like spring after a long winter: flowers bloom, hearts race, and reason sleeps. Here we are blind, and we call our blindness love. The ancients knew this stage well—they called it eros, a divine madness. Yet beware, for what begins in fire may also end in ashes if it is not tended with care.

Then comes the second stage: the marriage. Here the fire must be forged into a hearth. The oath is sworn, two lives are bound, and the lovers must learn not only passion but patience. In this stage, the soul discovers whether the fever of desire can be tempered into the steadiness of companionship. Many falter here, for the sweetness of the affair fades, and the weight of duty enters. But those who endure learn that love is not only fire—it is also stone, enduring and silent.

The third stage brings children. Now the love of two must stretch to embrace the many. Here the lovers are tested most fiercely, for they must put aside their own desires to nourish the fragile lives entrusted to them. In this stage, joy and sorrow walk hand in hand: the laughter of a child is like the dawn, but the sleepless nights, the sacrifices, and the quarrels of exhaustion are like storms that batter the house. It is here that many marriages either grow roots deep as oaks or begin to crack under the weight of strain.

But Mailer speaks most sharply of the fourth stage: the divorce. He dares to say that only then can one truly know a woman. Why? Because when the bonds are severed, when love is stripped of duty and pretense, the true heart of a person is revealed. In the battlefield of separation, masks are torn away. One sees not the dream of the affair, nor the role of the wife, nor the mother tending children—but the woman herself, in all her strength, fury, tenderness, or resilience. Divorce is the crucible in which the hidden essence is laid bare.

Consider the tale of Eleanor of Aquitaine, queen of both France and England. She was wed first to Louis of France, a union strained by duty and distance. When the marriage ended in annulment, many thought she would fade into obscurity. But freed from those chains, her true spirit emerged. She married Henry of England, bore children who would rule kingdoms, and shaped the politics of Europe with cunning and courage. It was through the ending of her first marriage that her strength was revealed to the world. Thus, Mailer’s words echo through history: only when bonds are broken does the full truth of a soul emerge.

What lesson then shall you, children of time, carry from this? It is this: love is not only in beginnings but in endings. Do not fear the unraveling, for in endings there is revelation. To truly know another, you must see them not only in joy but in trial, not only in union but in parting. And to live wisely, prepare your heart for all four stages—do not cling only to the fire of the first, nor despair at the breaking of the last.

So walk your path with courage. Love deeply in the affair, build faithfully in the marriage, sacrifice nobly for the children, and should fate bring you to divorce, face it with eyes open, for truth dwells there. Above all, seek always to know, not merely to possess. For in knowing another soul, in its wholeness and its brokenness, you will glimpse the eternal, and learn what it means to love in truth.