Quotes About Family

My father moved through theys of we, singing each new leaf out of each tree, (and every child was sure that spring danced when she heard my father sing)...

What if I lose you? You can't lose your mother, Charley.

At a certain point, your life is more about your legacy to your kids than anything else.

So often, we push away the voices closest to us. But once they're gone, we reach for them.

You didn't get it. Sacrifice is a part of life. It's supposed to be. It's not something to regret. It's something to aspire to. Little sacrifices. Big sacrifices. A mother works so her son can go to school. A daughter moves home to take care of her sick father. That's the thing. Sometimes when you sacrifice something precious, you're not really losing it. You're just passing it on to someone else.

The dead sit at our tables long after they have gone.

Children wonder at the world. Parents wonder at their children's wonder. In so doing, we are all together young.

Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work." —Dr. John Trainer

You have one family. For good or bad. You have one family. You can't trade them in. You can't lie to them. Sticking to your family is what makes it a family.

All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped.

Through it all, despite it all, Eddie privately adored his old man, because sons will adore their fathers through even the worst behavior. It is how they learn devotion. Before he can devote himself to God or a woman, a boy will devote himself to his father, even foolishly, even beyond explanation.

Sacrifice," The Captain said. "You made one. I made one. We all make them. But you were angry over yours. You kept thinking about what you lost. You didn't get it. Sacrifice is a part of life. It's supposed to be. It's not something to regret. It's something to aspire to. Little sacrifices. Big sacrifices. A mother works so her son can go to school. A daughter moves home to take care of her sick father.

It's nice that you spend a day with your mother,' she said. Children should do it more often.

But my father, a thief in many ways, had robbed me of my concentration.

Once you have a sister, you never stop having her, even if you can no longer see or touch her.

All parents damage their children. This was their life together. Neglect. Violence. Silence.

When love dries in a marriage, the children become mortar for the bricks. When the children leave, the bricks just sit atop each other. When the children die, the bricks tumble.

Love. . . . You are born in it . . . you return to it.

Why do you want to die?' I shivered. For a second I couldn't breathe. 'You knew...?' She gave a sad smile. 'I'm your mother.

You see, here's my theory: Kids chase the love that eludes them, and for me, that was my father's love. He kept it tucked away, like papers in a briefcase. And I kept trying to get in there.

A child is both an anchor and a set of wings. My old way of doing things was gone.

But then, I knew so little about my mother over the last decade of her life. I had been too wrapped up in my own drama.

Morrie," Koppel said, "that was seventy years ago your mother died. The pain still goes on?" "You bet," Morrie whispered.

As I crossed the street, my sister yelled out the window, Do you want us to bring you a cone? and I thought, You're so stupid, Roberta, cones melt.