Marriage and Love Quotes in Beneath a Marble Sky

Father leaned toward Mother to refill her wine goblet. I'd seen him do such tasks a thousand times, when even minor nobles had servants attend to these duties. Father, however, preferred to please Mother himself. And while most lords surrounded themselves with young concubines, Father chose to be alone with Mother. He was kind to his other wives but seldom visited them. Even at such a young age, I was keenly aware of the rare quality of my parents' love for each other, and often wondered if it was a blessing that I was destined ever to experience. It seemed impossible that I'd ever know such bliss, impossible that I might become worthy enough to merit a man like my father. (1.121)

"But how am I to find love, as you did, if Father weds me to a stranger?"

She adjusted a diamond brooch in my hair. "Remember that many marriages of love begin as marriages of politics. Yours may be no different." (2.39)

He finished with me, and as he did I began to understand the concept of hate. Other emotions I grasped fully. I feared Aurangzeb. I loved Father and worshipped Mother. Beggars I pitied and children I envied. But hatred was a feeling I had never experienced, nor wanted to. Nevertheless, that night, as I bled and wept and hated, I contemplated fleeing this creature or, better still, slipping some poison into his rice. Surely the world would not lament his departure. (4.33)

Though my pain had only relented a little, his flesh was warm and soothing. I wanted to feel more of him, more of his joyous touch. For the first time I truly understood how my parents had felt for each other. I understood the taste, the insanity of love. Because as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow I loved him so. (7.161)

"Love, Jahanara, is more precious than gold. It should above all things be pursued." He took my hand. "But let that pursuit be a quiet one, a chase other hunters won't hear. For love, especially the love you seek, with the man you seek, can be most dangerous."

Far from surprised by his perception, but pleased that he had discovered my secret, I leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "I adore you, Father."

He seemed to consider my words. "Never deny yourself love, my child. For to deny love is to deny God's greatest gift. And who are we to deny God?" (9.37-39)

Love. Such a simple feeling, yet such a force of creation. My parents' love, I was sure, would be written about until the end of time. Our own love, may it last forever, would be celebrated unknowingly for centuries through the dressings of the Taj Mahal. How fortunate we were, I realized. Men like Aurangzeb might know victory on a field of battle; they might earn titles and untold wealth. But could they ever reach such a height as this? When they were decrepit and dying, would they be content with their memories, or wallow in their lost opportunities? I suspected that their regrets would be many, and I pitied Aurangzeb, for his life would never be as complete as mine. (11.19)

"Do you remember, Swallow, our first night here together?"

"You were so excited."

"Yes. But even then…even then I somehow loved you." He reached for a rose that lay severed beneath its bush. "I'd give it all up," he whispered, glancing at the Taj Mahal, "for you."

A pair of boisterous Europeans passed and we quieted. Though I wanted to reach out to him, I dropped this coal of desire into cool water. "How is it, Isa, that we found each other?"

"Allah was kind."

"But was it Allah, or simple luck?"

He twirled the rose as he thought, inhaling its sweetness. "It was more than luck," he answered. "Luck might aid one in a game of chance, but something much more…infinitely more unfaltering brought us together."
(14.51-57)

I once heard of a man who, when deprived of opium after years of use, drowned himself rather than endure its absence. And in some capacities I was like this man, for my longing was so vast that I often doubted I could last another day. My failings as a mother and a lover haunted me. I never looked into a mirror, because I was ashamed of who I'd see.

Ultimately, my love saved me, for my love gave me strength. At night, when sleep was unwilling to rescue me, I gritted my teeth and devoured my fondest memories. In daylight, when I could no longer muster the will to pursue anything save thoughts of Isa, I imagined all that we'd do together, once we were reunited. (18.55)

"But he loves beautiful things, Nizam. Think of the Taj Mahal, think of what he creates. Why would such a man care for old things, when he can have something new?"

"You aren't a thing," he replied. "And perhaps that's the difference between us and other men. For most think of women as things, while we think of you as…" He paused, embarrassed. "I'm not a man of many words, my lady, nor am I a poet. But it seems to me that we think of you as…as white elephants. We search a lifetime for you, and when we finally find you, we'll not toss you away." (19.101)

Is it love I feel? Or a oneness surpassing even love? For love is a human emotion, and what I sense now is beyond anything of this Earth. It's too perfect to have been conjured by mortals. For Isa is with me, and as my face tightens and tears come forth, I see only him.

[…]

Many fear death. But I do not. For I've tasted this oneness we call love. Death cannot steal it. Nor temper it.

No, I'll take my love with me, wherever I travel.

And it shall endure. (25.59,63-65)