It must be understood, incidentally, that there is nothing wrong with a husband and a wife falling in love. Indeed, most husbands and wives fall in love, truly, only after marriage. Unfortunately, love is a fragile and delicate relationship. It is often evanescent, appearing and disappearing. It is, all things considered, more like a flower than a rock. It is very natural for it to fade but it is no less natural for it to reappear, fresher and deeper than before. In the years of marriage the relationship of two complex human beings is likely to undergo a variety of alterations and mutations. Sometimes, tragically, there is a growing apart, but if there is this growing apart, genuinely, then each plant, presumably, should take its own road, its own organic trajectory. Marriages held together by scotch tape, bandaids and paper clips, though they may last fifty years, are not good marriages. On the other hand, there is doubtless more separation and divorce and unhappiness than is necessary. I suspect, but do not know, that if more imagination entered into the marital relationship there would be a correspondent reduction in human misery, and, presumably, as a corollary, a reduction in the number of abandoned marriages. At any rate, it would be my recommendation to male readers that if you should find an intellectually and physically congenial woman who is eager to join with you in making your marriage an astonishing, surprising, unique, always different, always new relationship, do not let her go. Keep her locked up, selfishly, where she is yours, in the institution of marriage. She is a treasure. And similarly, it would be my recommendation to female readers that if you should find a man who eagerly joins with you to make your marriage a dramatic, startling, intimate affair, with its rich love secrets known only between you, cleave unto him, wench. His arms may be best for you. He is one man in a thousand.