Quotes About Family

Kids aren't bonsai. Maybe instead of trying to make them beautiful to the rest of the world, you should just love them and let them grow.

Getting respect from one's own family was like trying to draw blood from a stone.

Sometimes, in secret in her head, she liked to skip that awkward "son and daughter-in-law" phrasing and just call them her children.

Nor can I pass over the Sardinian gnocchetti in its red meat sauce; someone's grandmother spent all day on those,

Victoria se inclinó sobre el bebé. -Christian. Vamos a ver a Christian. El bebé abrió mucho sus ojos azules, como si lo hubiese comprendido.

He was tough as hell, and he'd always reminded me of my dad. Then one day, he was just gone, no warning. And I realized you can't take people for granted. Life's too short." She

Then, together, they passed through the camp gate and marched up the road, toward wives and sweethearts and children and Mom and Dad and home.

Sylvia kept writing to Louie, telling him of all they would do when he came home. "Darling, we will take the best of care for you," she wrote. "You shall be 'King Toots,'—anything your heart desires—(yes, even red heads and all).

McMullen came out of Japan racked by nightmares and so nervous that he was barely able to speak cogently. When he told his story to his family, his father accused him of lying and forbade him to speak of the war. Shattered and deeply depressed, McMullen couldn't eat, and his weight plunged back down to ninety pounds. He went to a veterans' hospital, but the doctors simply gave him B12 shots.

With only hook latches for locks, Louise took to sitting by the front door on an apple box with a rolling pin in her hand, ready to brain any prowlers who might threaten her children.

daughter-in-law, Cecy, with whom she had become dear friends.

Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmastime.

Home is the nicest word there is.

As the years pass, I am coming more and more to understand that it is the common, everyday blessings of our common everyday lives for which we should be particularly grateful. They are the things that fill our lives with comfort and our hearts with gladness -- just the pure air to breathe and the strength to breath it; just warmth and shelter and home folks; just plain food that gives us strength; the bright sunshine on a cold day; and a cool breeze when the day is warm.

There is no comfort anywhere for anyone who dreads to go home.

She thought to herself, "This is now." She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.

Maybe he was worried that I would get thinner and thinner, until I became as unfindable as my mother, and I felt a stab of compassion for him, imagining my father alone in this house with the white shadows of his two invisible women.

Sometimes he'd write my mother's new name under his on a scrap of paper...then, the one that hurt her teeth to see, Mrs. Brock Connors-as if, by marrying, my father would be himself, and also become her.

I am sixteen when my mother steps out of her skin one frozen January afternoon- pure self, atoms twinkling like microscopic diamond chips around her, perhaps the chiming of a clock, or a few bright flute notes in the distance- and disappears. No one sees her leave, but she is gone.

Look! I bear into this room a platter piled high with the rage my mother felt toward my father! Yes, it's diamonds now. It's pearls, public humiliation, an angry dime-store clerk, a man passed out at the train station, a girl at the bookstore determined to read every fucking magazine on this shelf for free.

I've thought about having a family. I just haven't seen any that really appeal to me.

I suppose you have already informed God that you will require at least three sons to ensure the Tremore line?

Olivia watched him through a blur of tears, despising the futility of it. For there was nothing she could say to comfort a man whose family was long dead; there was no balm to heal wounds that scored a man's soul; and there was no way to make a man believe in the ties that bind.

My family is from the South, and I can remember all those ladies I grew up with, like my great-aunts, who had handkerchiefs. There's something sweet about them.