Quotes About Sibling

care that he didn't care? When he was a kid all he'd wanted to do was beat his older brother, in anything and

Was Savannah another sibling? Why wasn't she here today? Was she the family outcast? The prodigal daughter? Is that why her name seemed to land between them with such portentousness? And had anyone called her?

They're pretty good at building stuff," her sister said. "Like bridges and roads. I mean, could you even build a hut? Your basic mud hut?" "I could build a hut," said Cecilia. "You probably could," groaned Bridget,

Polly had arrived in the world outraged to discover that her sisters had gotten there before her. "Well,

Such was the paradoxical nature of sibling relationships: they could tease her for the sappiness and spelling of her suicide notes while being terrified she'd write new ones.

Maybe if she hadn't grown up with a big brother, if she hadn't grown up with that tough Aussie tomboy mentality: if a boy hits you, you hit him right back! Perhaps if she'd wept softly and prettily the first time that Perry hit her, then maybe it wouldn't keep happening.

If you don't understand how a woman could both love her sister dearly and want to wring her neck at the same time, then you were probably an only child.

Whoa, that's the kind of little sister I can dig!" said Edison. "Yes, we're all alike," I said. "We cover for you, we lie for you, we take the heat for you. We clean up your messes and mollify our parents for you. We never fail to come across with undying adoration, whether or not you deserve it, and we can't take our lives as seriously as yours. We snuffle up the crumbs from your table on the rare occasions you notice we're alive.

But many, perhaps most siblings share a private universe tropical with benevolence, betrayal, vendetta, reconciliation, and the use and abuse of power of which their parents know practically nothing

Maybe it was different for you and Valerie, since you didn't like each other much. But many, perhaps most siblings share a private universe tropical with benevolence, betrayal, vendetta, reconciliation, and the use and abuse of power of which their parents know practically nothing.

Jayne was left an only child after her younger sister committed suicide in adolescence (a tragedy, yes, but one whose psychic statute of limitations might have run out by now - not that you'd get his wife to relinquish the trauma , which seemed to confer the special-protection status of landmark architecture.

But until you've experienced the incredible mix of emotions that a sibling brings to your life it's really very hard to imagine. The love and the hate, the fun and the fights, the rivalry and the kinship. No one else knows your world like a sibling does. They're there, every crap summer holiday, every day off school, every time your parents argue, every boring Christmas Day, every birthday party, they're there. And they are a part of you.

Such a shit, her big brother. He hid it with a mischievous veneer of dark humor, but she sometimes suspected that the darkness ran much deeper.

Such a shit, her big brother. He hid it with a mischievous veneer of dark humour, but she sometimes suspected that the darkness ran much deeper.

Bending his head over hers, Leo murmured, "When I give you away at the altar, Bea, I want you to remember something. I'm not really giving you away. I'm merely allowing him the chance to love you as much as the rest of us do." Beatrix's eyes watered, and he leaned against him. "He does," she whispered. "I think so, too," her brother whispered back. "I wouldn't let you marry him otherwise.

When I was 17, my dad was teaching in the States. He hired an A-Team-style van, and we drove all over. My resounding memory of it was that we saw all these wonderful places but that my sister and I were being horrible, sulky teenagers.

We all have, in my family, what we call the 'Vorderman bottom' - a sticky out, bigger-than-normal, signature, of the rear variety. It's been a family joke all our lives - even my lovely brother has one. I know the lines to all the good singalong big bum songs.

And what did you do last night, Dexter? Oh, I played with my dolls while a friend chopped up my sister.

Cody and Astor exchanged another of their eloquent looks, in which no sound was made but a great deal was said. "Mom," Astor said, "we're playing with our new sister." She said it as if it were in quotation marks, so Rita couldn't possibly object. But Rita was an old hand at the game, and she shook her head.

All right," I said. "Where's Lily Anne?" "With Mom," Astor said, frowning deeper at my continuing interruption.

Emma could be the offspring of the same father. At

The trees like lungs filling with air My sister, the mean one, pulling my hair

Presently, Mary Mac—that's what we call her for short—has churned out more kids than I can count. It's like she's a hoarder, only for children. In terms of personal achievement, she's pretty much the patron saint of minivans and stretch marks. What is that meme I've seen about the prolific 19 Kids and Counting mother? Ah, yes, "It's a vagina, not a clown car." Add one persecution complex, stir, and, boom! Meet my older sister.

it was nice to have someone cheering wholeheartedly for him the way that only a sibling could.