Quotes About Family

Nancy took her tiny little baby and held him down toward Norton. Look Norton, she said, This is a baby. Norton looked up at Charlie, took him in, and sort of nodded as if assimilating the information. There was a very long pause, and then I heard Nancy gulp. You've finally done it, she said to me. What? I wanted to know. Most mothers would have said, 'Look, Charlie, this is a cat.' I started to laugh. Not with Norton, I said.

Families are delicate things. Who's to say why or how we end up the way we do or become who we are? Parents make mistakes. A child's job is to overcome those mistakes. We can blame our parents - and our own past - for only so long before it becomes an excuse and a crutch. That's my position on family dynamics and I'm sticking to it. Sometimes you just have to assume responsibility for your own life and grow up.

In 1980, at independence, a man might expect to live to sixty and to see his children grow up strong and have children of their own, and if he was fortunate, a man might even live to see his great-grandchildren bring him gourds of beer before he died. But life expectancy dropped to fifty, and now it has collapsed, all the way down to thirty-three. It is hard to comprehend. At thirty-three, just as people should be in their prime, they suddenly sicken and die.

Once, when I was slicing bread, my knife slipped; instantly, I remembered how in the morning she used to cut thin slices of bread and pour warm milk on them for the children.

My sister is not an ugly woman. I don't know if there's a better person around.

I stared at her - unable to accept that at one time I was growing inside her. I was once just a couple of cells. My father and my mother were naked something had to be satisfactory about it, because he came inside her and she got pregnant. She, like me, was once a baby in her mother's stomach and so on and so forth and so it goes. So it goes.

Arnie pulls at my T-shirt. I shove his hand away. He pushes down the toilet handle and the bathroom fills with that flush sound. Tucker says, You taking a dump? No. Liar. I heard the flush. You were taking a dump. But I... I just wish you'd admit it. We got to be honest with each other. But... I heard the flush, Gilbert. You can't fool Tucker Van Dyke.

People are usually pretty hungry after a funeral. I guess it's because we all realize that time is running out and we better eat all we can. Please don't mention that to my mother.

In the living room, the consensus among the guests was that Scotty's looks favored his father, but the Judge was quick to disagree: 'He doesn't look a thing like me. He looks like an hors d'oeuvre.' Hearing this, Joan thought the following, and pledged it to herself, as both prayer and promise: You will be loved, Scotty Ocean. And while the guests laughed at the Judge's remark, Joan leaned over and softly whispered to her newborn son, 'You will be loved.

In the countryside, traditional parents avoid flattery, and the mother's responses were automatic—it was like knocking her knee with a rubber hammer. She didn't want to spoil the child, but there was also the Chinese superstition that pride attracts misfortune.

For some reason, it had become a tradition for tourists to throw money into the hole in front of the Sphinx. Of all the strange things that foreigners and rich Egyptians did at the ancient sites, this ritual most impressed Sayyid and his family.

Maybe it's a kind of freedom too. To stay home.

He's long used to his parents' disapproval—of grades, career choices, girlfriends. What's new is that now they're dealing with his disapproval. He'd always thought them good parents—loving, stable, involved—and still does. It's their anxiety, their defensiveness, their guilt, after all these years, that shakes him. Will that be us? he asks his wife, but they both know the answer already.

Talk is cheap and easy; making dreams real takes hard, humble work. Dreams in the Midwest are acceptable, just keep them to yourself. Maybe tell your family, but don't just talk—do something about it.

It is the Godfather, not God the Father, who makes you an offer you can't refuse.

It is much easier to fail to love your parents than to fail to love your children. That is why there is a commandment that commands love and respect to parents, but not to children. In an age of abortion, there ought to be an eleventh commandment against neglecting, harming, abusing, or even murdering your own children.

If human life becomes cheapened, it becomes cheapened at both ends. Parents are killed, by euthanasia, when they become a "burden" to their children; and children are killed, by abortion, when they become a "burden" to their parents. All societies in history would regard these two sins as two of the most heartless and inhuman possible sins. To kill your parents is to kill yourself, your own past; and to kill your children is to kill yourself, your own future.

Over half of all Roman Catholics in America today leave the Church before they get married and have kids. The most common reason for returning is for the kids. Like parachute jumpers, soldiers in foxholes, and big wave surfers, parents know they need God. And for similar reasons.

sex for reproduction

The family that fights together stays together.

This, my children, Alistair said proudly, was barbecue pork. Dan rapped his fingers against the latch. Been out in the sun for a long time.

Mrs. Grace Cahill….

We were family," Cass said softly. "We were all we had. And now we have nothing.

I DON'T THINK so." I blinked upward into Cass's face. His hair was haloed by a fluorescent ceiling light. I was in a glaringly bright room with puke-green walls and a tiled floor. My arm was attached to an IV stand, and by the wall was a wheeled table with beeping medical machines. "Huh?" I said. "You called me Mom. I said, 'I don't think so.'" "Sorry," I said. "The Dream.