Quotes About Generations

It's amazing how fast generations lose sight of other generations. One of the first things the young composers who come to work with me say is that they want to write music people will like, instead of gaining their credentials by being rejected by the audience.

I've done signings where elderly people will line up to get photos with me and ask me to sign things. They don't even pretend it's for their grandkids. They're like, 'No, it's for me.'

My father, who was a good deal older than my mother, had basically grown up with silent films; sound didn't arrive until he was 30 years old. So he took me to see silent pictures at MoMA when I was 5 or 6 years old.

I think what's different about this time is that at least pre-Internet there were more similarities between one generation and the next. And now, I think that gap has grown in a very significant way.

We live in a society that celebrates familial connection above any other kind of relationship. We are shown photos of our great-grandparents and encouraged to marvel over facial similarities. We are told to take pride in our bloodlines, celebrate our ancestry.

Even the simplest wicker basket can become priceless when it is loved and cared for through the generations of a family.

Who profits from a king's fidelity save generations a thousand years unborn, and which of his works will they recall at that remove, or care?

When Brian Eno approached the father of Anthea Norman-Taylor for permission to marry her, he was told, "What you have to ask yourself is, 'Would I wish this woman to be the grandmother of my grandchildren?

Collectively, they are the indolent children of inherited wealth, removed by generations from those who last made the fortune—the Greatest Generation—and too self-absorbed and selfish to consider what they in turn might leave for the next generations.

I dreamed of my grandparents living there as though they always had with their habits, their rituals, their ways of speaking. With the illusory sense I had as a girl, when my own world was so fragile, that they always would be there. That they would always welcome me and care for me. That they were a place I could always go. A homeland

You come from your mauma, you sleep in the bed with her till you're near twenty years grown, and you still don't know what haunches in the dark corners of her.

I heard mauma say, I don't spec to get free. The only way I'm getting free is for you to get free.

You come from your mauma, you sleep in the bed with her till you're near twenty years grown, and you still don't know what haunches in the dark corners of her.

all roads converge on a single moment on June 25, 1950. For those of her generation who lost somebody, life is forever divided between before that day and after.

For those of us raised by mothers and fathers who experienced such trauma firsthand, it is impossible not to continue this remembering. I

The past was all right there before me: generations of Koreans separated by division; decades of longing, loss, hurt, regret, guilt.

Together, Vita (Sackville-West) & Harold (Sir Harold Nicholson) had a passion bigger than them-selves, bigger than their marriage, bigger than everything~their garden. No matter what they did during their lives, the legacy they left for generations to come is pure magic.

The rules for raising children had gone out with her parents generation of daughters who had lived as Lucy had, in patient silence, acting by standards which had lasted generations, waiting to grow up to make their decisions, following the patterns of their own lives.

His grandfather, Carson Vandegrift, a Baptist deacon, was wounded during Pickett's Charge, and young Vandegrift grew up hearing war stories from him and other Confederate veterans in Charlottesville.

We are not just generations apart but are chasms apart in language,too

People think that great grandparents do not matter to kids. But they matter to me. They are my history. The more I know about them, the further my roots can stretch

pie at the Red Lion, which cost pennies that they didn't have. The boys went off to play in the field at the back of the market garden with Martin Clackett, leaving Sue and Evie in peace to work. Evie watched and learned as her grandmother turned Josie Lambert's vast garment into

the generations broken, the family broken, to be repaired like a dropped pot or snarled ark of reeds, that unshakeable Jew belief in continuity, narrative, plot, in plopping myself in creaky unreclinable chairs around tables of prickly leaves to commiserate through recitation: flight into Egypt, plagues, flight out of Egypt, desert and plagues—a travail so repeated without manumission that it becomes its own travail, and so the tradition is earned.

Carl Jung wrote that nothing affects children more than the unlived lives of their parents.