Quotes About Family

The worst part of dealing with his sisters was that they were all so damned smart. Ever since he'd returned to the Parker family headquarters he'd tried to be "helpful" and get the mail himself. But it didn't arrive consistently, and he couldn't be walking out to the street every five minutes all day long. "Oh?" he muttered, allowing himself only a brief glance at the letter before returning

Coming home to my family afterward makes the work richer, easier and more fun.

Those years on Marbachweg were among our best times.

He is not a pleasant person,' I said. 'I don't know what we need him for.' 'You'll just have to learn to get along with him,' my mother replied. We were speaking of her husband, the man she had chosen to father her children.

Children should be seen and not heard,' my mother contributed grimly, ganging up on me. That was the worst part, having her join the enemy. I knew it was her idea of diplomacy, and that it probably stemmed from cowardice, but to me it was simple betrayal, selling out her own child for the sake of peace.

There needs to be a homemaker exercising some measure of skill, imagination, creativity, desire to fulfill needs and give pleasure to others in the family. How precious a thing is the human family. It it not worth some sacrifice in time, energy, safety, discomfort, work? Does anything come forth without work?

Even if (musical) talent is "just" used within a family, someone is appreciating what is being produced, or is sharing in the enjoyment.... for relaxation; for just plain fun and sharing: for the experience of doing something creative together.

the noblest work a woman can do is training and rearing her children.

On the green they watched their sons Playing till too dark to see, As their fathers watched them once, As my father once watched me

He was not merely a chip of the old block, but the old block itself.

Boys were emerging in increasing numbers to greet, guide and control their apprehensive kin.

The Misses Bale don't like it a bit, but I say to them, "Titty," I say -or as it may be, "Tatty" – their names are Titania and Tatiana -that awful mother of theirs –

I was much affected by the internal troubles of the Punch family; I thought that with a little more tact on the part of Mrs. Punch and some restraint held over a temper, naturally violent, by Mr. Punch, a great deal of this sad misunderstanding might have been prevented.

Some people ask if I regret not having a family. Not at all. Some women are cut out to be mommies. Some are superwomen with the stamina to do it all. I am not one of them. My elementary school math teacher was right: I would have been a lousy housewife. Instead I am lucky enough to work and interact with talented and stimulating people on a job where no day is ever the same as any other. And I get to touch thousands of people in some way.

Christmas isn't a season. It's a feeling.

Reata," he said two decades later

My mother died when I was 18. Up until then, I never saw a tin can in my house. (Washington Post interview, 1990)

Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his old pants. There'll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the keys To make a pretty noise with. Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.

Oh, the things I haven't seen and the things I haven't known, What with hedges and ditches till after I was grown, And yanked both ways by my mother and my father, With a "Which would you better?" and a "Which would you rather?" With him for a sire and her for a dam, What should I be but just what I am?

I come from that society and there is a common thread, specifically family values - the idea that you do anything for your family, and the unconditional love for one's children.

Y queda en mí el mandato inexorable que dictan las fidelidades eternas. Cuando Independiente gana un campeonato —al fin y al cabo, Dios y sus milagros evidentemente existen— lo primero que hago, en la cancha o en mi casa, es levantar los brazos y los ojos hacia el cielo, abrazándolo a mi viejo a través de todos los rigores del destino, y por encima de todas las traiciones de la muerte.

Todavía me acuerdo de ese número once de cuero blanco, cosido en la camiseta como el de Bertoni. Pero ahora también veo, cuando me fijo con suficiente atención, que mi viejo también lleva lo suyo. Lo tiene ahí, en la espalda, justo a la altura del nacimiento de las alas: un diez de cuero blanco, igualito igualito al de Bochini.

Acabo de entender que el fútbol no es ni más ni menos que eso. Eso que me dio mi viejo, y que yo le paso a mi hijo. Ese amor gratuito, esa esperanza desbocada. Ese dolor, esa rabia, esa fe rotunda en que, alguna vez, habrá revancha

Así funciona la cabeza de mamá: los hombres en general, y nuestro padre en particular, llevan las riendas de las cosas. Pero en el fondo, en la penumbra, las mujeres disponemos de una sanción final, de una palabra inapelable. Si el clan por algún motivo está en peligro y los hombres, en su ceguera consuetudinaria, en su simpleza ramplona, no advierten el riesgo, somos nosotras las que debemos intervenir.