Quotes About Family

There's something magical about that time when your babies are small, when you're the center of their world, the person they love the most.

But the love of sisters needs no words. It does not depend on memories, or mementos, or proof. It runs as deep as a heartbeat.

It's hard to believe that, not so many years ago, orphaned children were little more than chatte

Maybe not everyone got the mom who baked cupcakes and showed up at all the school parties. There weren't enough of those to go around, so maybe God used other people, like Mrs. Lora and J. Norm, to make sure you learned how to shell a purple hull pea or find Saturn in the night sky.

No matter how much you want to cut your family out of your heart, you can't. The bond is born when you are born, like an organ in your body. There is no surgery to remove it. When it is diseased, you live with a dull ache telling you that something inside you is not right.

Truth is, instead of fixing everything, the Arcadia made everything real. Camellia's gone. Lark and Gabion are far away. Queenie's buried in a pauper's grave, and Briny's heart went there with her. He's lost his mind to whiskey, and he doesn't want to come back. Not even for me. Not even for Fern. We're not enough.

To the general public, Tann was simply a matronly, well-meaning woman who devoted her life to rescuing children in need. Her celebration of children adopted by wealthy, well-known families helped to popularize the idea of adoption in general and dispel the widespread belief that orphaned children were undesirable and inherently damaged.

Again, I feel the tug-of-war between my own feelings and the hopes and plans my family has always held for me. The plans I always thought I held for myself.

The music of old age is difficult to hear when it's playing for someone you love.

Mama has always been in charge of the world, and she's determined not to abdicate now.

I was raised that way too.

Our mothers and fathers can be the most familiar people in the world and total strangers; they have a dark side, like the moon, that's invisible to us as long as we remain locked in the fixed orbit of the parent-child bond.

because we had survived sisters and brothers, daughters and sons, we discovered bones that rose from the dark earth and sang as white birds in the trees Because the story of our life becomes our life Because each of us tells the same story but tells it differently and none of us tells it the same way twice . . (from, Why We Tell Stories)

My mom moved up between Leland and Greenville when I was just a little tot.

I love my dad, although I'm definitely critical of him sometimes, like when his pants are too tight. But I love him so much and I try to be really supportive of him.

Soon I will be an old, white-haired lady, into whose lap someone places a baby, saying, "Smile, Grandma!" — I, who myself so recently was photographed on my grandmother's lap.

Children form a bond of union than which the human heart finds none more enduring.

Where is his father? When will his mother be home? How is he going to explain the moon taken hostage, the sea risen to fill up all the mirrors? How is he going to explain the branches beginning to grow from his ribs and throat, the cries and trills starting in his own mouth? And now that ancient sorrow between his hips, his body's ripe listening; the planet knowing itself at last.

Water has invaded my father's heart, swollen, heavy, twice as large. Bloated liver. Bloated legs. The feet have become balloons. A respirator mask makes him look like a diver. When I lay my face against his—the sound of water returning. The

Which is this? This is persimmons, Father. Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk, the strength, the tense precision in the wrist. I painted them hundreds of times eye's closed. These I painted blind. Some things never leave a person: scent of hair of one you love, the texture of persimmons, in your palm, the ripe weight.

The good boy hugs a bag of peaches his father has entrusted to him. Now he follows his father, who carries a bagful in each arm. See the look on the boy's face as his father moves faster and farther ahead, while his own steps flag, and his arms grow weak, as he labors under the weight of peaches.

When a man and a woman come to an alliance with honour, the knowledge that their future has been written for the benefit of family and state, love and duty are one.

In that moment, he wanted to be worthy of her trust. He wanted to do every bit of the hard work of proving to her that he wasn't the same kid who had walked out on his family. ~Eli

Oh, by the way, Mom, I've been meaning to ask. I don't suppose you married a merman, had his child, and then never saw him again? OR THOUGHT TO TELL YOUR DAUGHTER ABOUT IT? HUH???