“A witty vicar once said that a good marriage is like a pair of scissors with the couple inseparable joined, often moving in opposite directions, yet always destroying anyone who comes between them. The trick is for the blades to learn to work smoothly together, so as not to cut each other.”

“You and I,” she said slowly, saying each word with care, “are a pair of scissors.”“A pair of scissors…” I replied, unsure of what she meant.“Alone, we’re knives. Sharp and nasty, made to hurt others. But together, we are scissors. Better, safer, more useful. But more than that, we are our missing halves. And whatever comes between us, we destroy.”“I like that,” I told her.“You don’t think it’s creepy?” she asked tentatively.“No, it’s not creepy. Because I love you.”

“A great marriage is not when the 'perfect couple' comes together. It is when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences.”

“Work did not destroy the loneliness; work was only a fog in which they moved so that they might not see the loneliness of each other”

“The neighbourhood is a place of...intrigue and emotional espionage, where when two people stop to talk on the street, their tongues are like the two halves of a scissor coming together, cutting reputations and good names to shreds.”

“Arik and Cadie always knew they wouldn't be one of those couples that let problems between them fester. They would immediately address any issues that arose, bring them out into the open, discuss them until they reached a mutually satisfactory conclusion. They felt bad for some of the Founders who they believed had unhappy marriages — couples who were not strong enough to be truthful and open with each other, and even worse, with themselves”