There is only one definition of marriage, through the eyes of a man, and that it summarizes into a single word: bliss.
While married in bliss, a man wishes to forget, and not remember the depravity of former days. Furthermore, a man wishes to show, not simply tell, the love to his wife. And what world is there to show to her, other than the one in his very chamber, his very heart that she denied he had, among all the other little unknowns so oblivious to her?
The world should not follow a woman, as to a man, that is a crime against his marriage. The world, that is, full of its ugliness, with war and pestilence spread about, is never to follow her. Shadows should never follow her, for “shadows” are not memories of any delight in them.
For a man should not stand in a woman’s shadow, blind to her. He should stand as her light.
Marriage is a place where bliss resides. To a man, he has no terrible world to conquer, other than the terrors his woman had once noticed, so that she will no longer notice them, and thus begin to notice only a world that she sees with pure awe.
To a man, to any man, a woman’s heart is where he lives, as she lives in his home, constructed by his own hands.
Were she to leave, then it would make the house a residence of emptiness. To imagine it, the heart has left the physical structure, so that all that remains is the empty space.
And were he to die, then all she’d have left are memories, haunting her as fresh shadows.