A post-St. Valentine's Day thought for all my very few readers

As a post-St. Valentine's Day thought, I read this passage this morning from Chesterton's novel, Manalive. I just loved it and wanted to share with you:

"Imprudent marriages! roared Michael. "And pray where in earth or heaven are there any prudent marriages? Might as well talk about prudent suicides.... You never know a husband until you marry him. Unhappy! Of course you'll be unhappy! Who the devil are you that you shouldn't be unhappy like the mother that bore you? Disappointed? Of course we'll be disappointed! I, for one, don't expect till I die to be so good a man as I am at this minute, for just now I'm 50,000' high, a tower with all the trumpets shouting."
   "You see all this," said Rosamund, with a grand sincerity in her solid face, "and do you really want to marry me?"
   "My darling, what else is there to do?" reasoned the Irishman. "What other occupation is there for an active man on this earth, except to marry you? What's the alternative to marriage, barring sleep? It's not liberty, Rosamund. Unless you marry God, as our nuns do in Ireland, you must marry Man; that is Me. The only third thing is to marry yourself--to live with yourself--yourself, yourself, yourself--the only companion that is never satisfied--and never satisfactory."
   "Michael," said Miss Hunt, in a very soft voice, "if you won't talk so much, I'll marry you."