Quotes About Family

He was the measure of the failure of his father's body, and also perhaps a portending of the failure of his own.~

And there I was, trudging through the same old nowhere, day after day, always wanting to slow down, to sit down, to lie down, with my father walking on ahead, no doubt a little desperate, as he had every right to be.

It is the sad privilege of blood relations to love him despite all.

I remember once my father and my grandfather were sitting on the porch together, crackling and shelling black walnuts. They loved each other's company, when they weren't at each other's throats, which meant when they were silent, as they were that day.

home, a son. Well, I was a fine, vigorous old man

She had followed her father's thoughts back to that old bitterness, and the bitterness simmered in his half-closed eyes as he reflected on the inevitability of his disappointment.

So much had never been explained to her. They were that kind of family. Things necessary to know were passed along brother to brother, sister to sister, and this sufficient for most purposes, despite inevitable error and sensational.

His lovely wife tends her zinnias in the mild morning light and his find young man comes fondly mishandling that perpetually lost sheep of a cat, Soapy, once more back from perdition for the time being, to what would have been general rejoicing.

me! I'll just say—what am I going to say? The house will smell like

And I gave you some of those chocolate cupcakes with the squiggle of white frosting across the top. I buy those for your mother because she loved them and won't buy them for herself.

Sometimes they cried out at night, small thin cries that never woke them. The sound would stop as she started up the stairs, however softly, and when she reached their rooms she would find them all quietly asleep, the source of the cry hiding in silence, like a cricket. Just her coming was enough to still the creature.

I can tell you this, that if I'd married some rosy dame and she had given me ten children and they each had given me ten grandchildren, I'd leave them all, on Christmas Eve, on the coldest night of the world, and walk a thousand miles just for the sight of your face, your mother's face. And if I never found you, my comfort would be in that hope, my lonely and singular hope, which could not exist in the whole of Creation except in my heart and in the heart of the Lord

Behind every book for young people and every global product of family entertainment, the hum of boardroom discussion about the politics of the work can be heard.

Mary Jane Clairmont, the second wife of William Godwin, and Mary Shelley's stepmother, had the idea of bringing out French fairy tales for children in an attempt to make some much needed money for the family (she has not been given her due by biographers, in my view).

The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in its loyalty to each other.

Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.

Never show anger at slight, tell nothing. Earn respect from everyone by deeds, not Words. Respect the members of your Blood Family. Gambling was Recreation, not a way to earn a Living. Love your Father, your Mother, your Sister but beware of Loving any other Woman than your Wife. And a Wife was a woman who bore your Children. And once that happened to You, your Life was Forfeit to give them their daily bread

Michael could never remember his father ever having uttered a word about death, as if the Don respected death too much to philosophize about it.

We are a family, and the loyalty of the family must come before anything and everyone else. For if we honor that commitment, we will never be vanquished-but if we falter in that loyalty we will all be condemned.

Woman and children can afford to be careless, men can not.

Fredo you're my older brother and I love you. But don't ever take sides against the family...

No, that's not possible, Michael said. Killed, yes; jail, no.

Tell my father I wish to be his son.

She emptied her mind of all thought of herself, of her children, of all anger, of all rebellion, of all questions. Then with a profound and deeply willed desire to believe, to be heard, as she had done every day since the murder of Carlo Rizzi, she said the necessary prayers for the soul of Michael Corleone.