Quotes About Family

an old photograph of my sisters and me with our father. The photograph was ruined. Those images of us from so long ago were yellowed, cracked, like the figures of winged demons in certain altarpieces that the faithful have defaced with pointed objects.

Será possível que os pais nunca morram, que fiquem a incubar dentro de cada filho,inevitavelmente?

We draw up lists of the good and the bad as if the many privileges deriving from chance aren't there: your place of birth, your family, the inequality of opportunities.

Children don't know the meaning of yesterday, of the day before yesterday, or even of tomorrow, everything is this, now: the street is this, the doorway is this, the stairs are this, this is Mamma, this is Papa, this is the day, this the night.

I feel no nostalgia for our childhood: it was full of violence. Every sort of thing happened, at home and outside, every day, but I don't recall having ever thought that the life we had there was particularly bad. Life was like that, that's all, we grew up with the duty to make it difficult for others before they made it difficult for us.

How foolish to think you can tell your children about yourself before they're at least fifty. To ask to be seen by them as a person and not as a function. To say : I am your history, you begin from me, listen to me, it could be useful to you.

It is difficult to inherit the histories of those who raise us when they choose to hide them.

En los únicos momentos en que me llevo bien con mis papás es cuando vamos al cine, porque entonces nadie habla. • Victoria Garfias Madrigal, de la Facultad de Ingeniería de la UNAM

By not encouraging injuries, a mother avoids having to close wounds later on. Erika's mother prefers inflicting injuries herself, then supervising the therapy.

terwijl de mannen mooi rijpen en ouder beginnen te worden en zich te goed doen aan de alcohol - die moet hen sterk en kankerloos houden -, duurt de doodstrijd van hun vrouwen vaak jaren en jaren, vaak ook nog zo lang dat ze de doodsstrijd van hun dochters kunnen meemaken. de vrouwen beginnen hun dochters te haten en willen hen zo gauw mogelijk ook laten sterven als zij zelf eens zijn gestorven, daarom: man gezocht.

nhi?u ng??i may ch? ?? tâm m?t n?a t?i công vi?c, n?a kia ph?n cho gia ?ình. m?t vài ng??i hoàn toàn ?? tâm ??n công vi?c, nh?ng nh?ng ng??i nh? th? không ph?i là nh?ng ng??i làm vi?c t?t nh?t.

then stay at home, paula, and become a housewife and help me with the housework and with the animals and wait upon your dada as i wait upon him and also wait upon your brother, when he comes from the wood, why should you be better off than me, I was never better off than my mother, who was a housewife, because in those days there weren't any sales assistants here yet, and my dada would have beaten me to death if there had been any.

and he said, i have to stay at home and help momma and attend to him, when he comes from work and fetch the beer from the innkeeper, that takes eight minutes there and back, and if it takes longer, then i'll break your back. and why should you, my daughter, be better off than me?

when paula asks one of the women, what she would like, then she would like something for the whole family, for example, a car, in which then the whole family sits, and in which the mother is forever waiting to get a chance to smack the child's fingers, to be able to justify her own presence.

Good government generally begins in the family, and if the moral character of a people once degenerate, their political character must soon follow.

I do not recall a Jewish home without a book on the table.

I learned a lot from that, like how much it hurt to see how other people described you, and how things that you said about another person, especially your parents, seemed neutral when addressed to a third party, but lethal when you thought about your parents reading it.

as for unhappy families, star-crossed lovers, and exiled heroes, they are simply universal.

When the time came to sell cookies, my mother, to whom few things could have been more shameful than the idea of my going door-to-door trying to sell anything, sold all the cookies herself, to her own mother. Ten years later, when I was visiting my grandmother in Ankara, I found them in the pantry: thirty unopened boxes of Girl Scout cookies. "Why didn't you eat your cookies?" I asked. "Oh, they're cookies? I thought they were candles," said my grandmother.

Just think," he said. "What would your mother say?" Tears welled to my eyes. My mother would be sorry for me.

Juli's mother, a beautician, was very thin, with unusually bright eyes. For dinner she made a soup called "boy-catching soup" and a cake called "mother-in-law cake." These two dishes seemed to sum up a whole worldview of entrapment and placation.

It wasn't that I hadn't known these things, but that at some point, without realizing it, I had persuaded myself that I was different—that my honesty and non-lameness wouldn't be punished like that, because I had some special skill, some self-sufficiency, an ability to be alone. I always had been alone, when every other person in my family had insisted on having someone around to have sex with.

It couldn't have been depressing, because my mother had worked so hard to make it not be depressing. And yet—was it possible that how hard my mother worked was part of why it had been depressing?

Okay. Now, don't let any of this lower your mirth index. Think of Tamerlane." My grandfather used to comfort my mother, during her childhood, by reminding her that they might have been related to Tamerlane. "Okay," I said, though I had never seen how Tamerlane helped anything. "Remember, you have the best heart and mind, and whatever you do is right. Bye-bye, my sweet. Don't forget the fruit group.