Quotes About Family

Arif expended so much energy defining himself in opposition to other people, other musical tastes, other fashions, other views, other politics, other members of his own family that he was too exhausted to know who he really was. He thought she was weak and he was strong because he rebelled and she did not. But it took strength to work hard and do your duty, and it was she who had what she wanted in this world. He didn't even know what he wanted. She felt sorry for him.

She was greatly moved by her mother's love marriage, more than she had been in years. Love, Ma was telling her, not only in words but by example, conquers all.

She smiled at her sister-in-law's small sad face, all her features lined up, as ever, to mourn for everything that had passed and all that would come to pass.

Ma waggled her head in a way that meant don't be silly and also look how much clearing up there is to do. She could speak entire sentences by moving her head and using her eyes.

Will?" said Ma, looking shocked. "Am I a vulture to eat his flesh and bone? And Mr. Ackerman? I should feed on his carcass also?" Mr. Ackerman lived at number 72 and was another beneficiary of Ma's social services. Mr. Coombs, who lived in the bungalow on the corner, was especially partial to Ma's lamb biryani.

Don't worry," said Ma, "I will deal with this." She wobbled her head in a way that suggested she already had things under control. "I will deal with your father, okay?

Very suitable," said Yasmin, which in the Ghorami household was high praise indeed.

I have taken time away," said Ma, "now I am going back to your father. You see? Life is not simple. You do not know what will happen with Joe." "Okay, Ma." She wouldn't argue, because Ma had used her best stubborn voice.

Daddy Ben and Old Rit were overjoyed to see her.

He had not loved his son enough. This knowledge lived like a malignancy on his heart.

Má, please do not cry. I know I could have bought bread with it, a room for the night. I could have bought acts of love with it, but I could have never bought back the years of your life. Sorrow, even when tempered by sweat and toil into a whisper weight of gold, is still sorrow. Worthless to us both in the end, Má. Better that a stranger circles the globe with it than your youngest son.

My father's unhappiness was a piece of fine mesh in his throat which all of his words had to push past with some care.

From the soft mouth of the woman who gave her life, my mother received the words that would keep her, still and unmoving, underneath the Old Man. The words swam with her in the dark and kept her from reaching up with a knife and cutting his neck like that of a chicken. Her mother told her to swallow her anger, and she gulped it down until her belly became distended with it. Worse, her mother knew that it would.

Years of alcohol can do that to a person, make him dead but not departed, make him indelible to those who have had the misfortune of sharing his name.

To enter a breach, conduct an embassy, govern a people, are actions of renown; to reprehend, laugh, sell, pay, love, hate, and gently and justly converse with a man's own family and with himself; not to relax, not to give a man's self the lie, is more rare and hard, and less remarkable.

Inevitably the real garden with a growing family of children will be untidy, messy even, noisy and often destructive. It drives arch control freaks like myself mad. But I hate it when they are not there.2

Maybe, like my parents and grandparents, I can trust myself to be a mom without a reference library to tell me how. Maybe I don't need magazines, television of the internet to tell me how. And maybe most of all I don't need marketing campaigns designed to make money off my good intentions to tell me how. Maybe I know how. Or, by God, I'll figure it out.

My mother, wore the mask, she thought as she napped the neck of the lead enforcer. And now I wear it. But it is not all that I am. Her friends -- her family -- were disarming the enforcers, or killing them before they could react. Some carried simple fishing knives loaned by the locals, and others had grabbed their own weapons from the sand. They were improving, adapting, and surviving, the way Enfys's mother had taught them. They underestimate us, and that is why they lose

On the first day of his holiday Laurence Manders woke to hear his grandmother's voice below. 'I'll have a large wholemeal. I've got my grandson stopping for a week, who's on the BBC. That's my daughter's boy, Lady Manders. He won't eat white bread, one of his fads.' Laurence shouted from the window, 'Grandmother, I adore white bread and I have no fads.

Why can't I wake up? she had said upon opening her eyes in bed the day after her mother's death.

Plus la mère a été brimée comme fille, sÅ"ur, épouse, plus elle élève son fils dans le culte de la virilité.

For Shama and her sisters and women like them, ambition, if the word could be used, was a series of negatives; not to be unmaried, not to be childless, not to be an undutiful daughter, sister, wife, mother, widow.

I think that people have an instinct for a family. You look until you find a mother, a father, a sister, a brother. They don't have to be blood relatives. They just have to love you. And when you find them, you don't have to look anymore.

Matt had to swallow hard to keep tears from forming. Fidelito had called him brother!