Quotes About Family

My sisters said, Why do you make those faces? You make yourself so ugly.

The man who bears my name, and who claims to be me, was born on July 15, 1865, the sixth in a family of seven. He was an ugly child, and remained ugly till his eighteenth year, when his looks gradually improved.

It would have been difficult to have an ugly daughter.

My mom has this ugly Santa ornament, and one year, I took it off the tree and clipped it to her pillow. We've been trading it back and forth ever since - 16 years now. I wore it to the Golden Globes and even put it in her bird feeder. As the birds eat, it's slowly revealed.

I think that every decision I made came from what's best for the kids. If both parents have the children's best interests in mind, it's going to go OK. The second that the parents don't do that, it gets ugly.

People can say whatever they want about me. They can call me ugly. But don't talk about my child.

All babies are ugly unless they're your baby.

In America, there's a programme called 'The Swan.' They take 12 ugly people and call them 'ugly ducklings.' They spend six months and have everything done - plastic surgery, teeth, everything. And then they have this moment where their family is brought in, and they are revealed. It's scary.

I live in Ukraine with my family. I love my country, family, friends, people. I fight for them. I fight for Ukraine.

My mom Marina and I were poor and hungry. We could sometimes not afford to eat - seriously. We lived together in a small town, called Berdyansk, in Ukraine. I was an only child. I don't think we would have survived if there had been more kids.

I was born in a big city - Ivano-Frankivsk in Ukraine - but when I was a child, my father moved us back to his homeland in Minsk.

I played for Atletico and Internacional and then moved to Ukraine with Shakhtar Donetsk. My family supported me a lot and I'm very thankful for them.

Baba Seva - Seva Efraimovna Gekhtman - was born in a small town in Ukraine in 1919. Her father was an accountant at a textile factory, and her mother was a nurse. Her parents moved to Moscow with her and her brothers when she was a child.

My Ukrainian grandmother would tell amazing stories. She lost her father, and as children, we would always listen to her stories.

When I was a teenager, my mom got me a really nice baritone ukulele.

I grew up in a musical family; the majority of my growing up was done in Hawaii. It's what we do. You sing, you dance, you play ukulele and you drink.

On the good days, my mother would haul out the ukulele and we'd sit around the kitchen table - it was a cardboard table with a linoleum top - and sing.

When I was 14, my mother died. My father, who had always had ulcers, came apart. He had a series of intestinal operations, and was in the hospital for nearly a year. So the four of us teenagers lived by ourselves in the apartment without a guardian.

Within a lot of African-American households, I think, there's an idea that black men don't want to take an active participation in the lives of their children. That if they do, there has to be some sort of ulterior motive.

Motherhood is the ultimate call to sacrifice.

The ultimate problem confronting me all my life has been the senseless injury to and neglect of my sister.

People talk about balance. Balance is an awful measure of things because it implies a scale that inevitably tips. I like to look through the filter of, 'Is the life I'm leading consistent with my priorities?' For me, my family is the ultimate litmus test.

People strive for success, but it's very lonely at the top. Now I realise the ultimate prize is a family.

My passion in life, besides my family, was always music. From the time I was a kid, I was obsessed. I'm like the ultimate fan.