Quotes About Family

Who cared that he couldn't spell? She was a good-enough speller for both of them. With luck, their children would take after her.

When parents die, the dream dies, too—the dream that they will see you for who you really are (and, I suppose, the dream that they will ever be the parents you wish for).

We don't discuss death. Not that we avoid it. It's just that here, we're preoccupied with life.

I know they argue about whether or not it's right, whether or not the baby is alive at this point or that point in its growth inside the womb. This wasn't about that. It wasn't what the lawyers did. It wasn't what the doctors did, it wasn't what the woman did. It was what the mother and father did together.

Your husband will beat you with an extension cord and the bus will pull away leaving you standing there in tears, but you were my mother.

To me, Texas signified strange days, querulous wanderings, bloody fairy tales, hot, moon-filled nights, earthworms, and unbought flowers. Texas was women to me: my aunt dying of cancer, my grandmother's hunchbacked sister, and Eloisa. All laughing, laughing.

Sometimes family isn't the situation you're born into but the people who've chosen to love you along the way.

Meet me back here in twenty," he called, shutting the door. " 'Kay, Dad!" He froze, the title catching him right in the gut. He watched her disappear into the barn, a smile of wonder lifting his mouth.

I want you to be my wife, baby. I want to come home to you every night and hear your laughter. I want to build a life together with all the things that matter. I want there to be family, and sailing, and church, and work, and kids . . ." Her lips trembled on a smile. "Five little angels?" He squeezed her hands. "I was thinking we'd start with one and work our way up. What about it, Maddy—will you marry me?

I want to kick Grandma in the penis

I loved getting up before everyone else, when the house was still and I could read or listen to a podcast alone in a frozen world. I knew where everyone was. I knew they were safe. I could relax.

My uncle's death confirmed a suspicion of mine that madness and religion were a hair's breadth away.

We were supposed to grow old together, Dolores. Have kids. Take walks under old trees. I wanted to watch the lines etch themselves into your flesh and know when each and every one of them appeared. Die together.

The sound of her breathing reminded me, as it so often did, of how vulnerable she was. And how vulnerable we were because of how much we loved her. The fear - that something could happen to her at any moment, something I'd be helpless to stop - had become so omnipresent in my life that I sometimes pictured it growing, like a third arm, out of the center of my chest.

When a woman once asked Joe how he could come from such a magnificent home and such a good family and still become a gangster, Joe's answer was two-pronged: (a) he wasn't a gangster, he was an outlaw; (b) he came from a magnificent house not a magnificent home.

It was the lack of a clear reason that got to her most, & it stabbed her that a relationship that had once seemed unbreakable could slip apart so easily due to nothing more than time, family turmoil, & growth spurts.

Joe closed his hand over the watch and it was still warm from his father's pocket, ticking against his palm like a heart.

My father's gone, Joe said eventually. Emma's dead. Your brother's dead. My brothers scattered. Shit, D, you're one of the only people I know anymore. I lose you, who the fuck am I?

Growing up, Joe had adored his brother, Then he'd come to hate him. Now, he mostly didn't think about him. When he did, he had to admit, he missed his laugh.

Brendan Harris loved everyone now because he loved Katie and Katie loved him. Brendan loved traffic and smog and the sound of jackhammers. He loved his worthless old man who hadn't sent him a single birthday or Christmas card since he'd walked out on Brendan and his mother when Brendan was six. He loved Monday mornings, sitcoms that couldn't make a retard laugh, and standing in line at the RMV. He even loved his job, though he wouldn't be going in ever again.

Win for me. Win for my kids. Win for my marriage so I can carry your winning back to the car with me and sit in the glow of it with my family as we drive back toward our otherwise winless lives.

You can have two families in this life, Joe, the one you're born to and the one you build.

She remembered a feeling she could barely articulate, that her mother, never happy, grew even more bitter with success. Years later, she'd suspect the reason was because the fame and the money robbed her mother of excuses for her unhappiness. Her mother, brilliant at analyzing the problems of strangers, never had a clue how to diagnose herself. So she spent her life in search of solutions to problems that were born, raised, lived, and died within the boundaries of her own marrow.

You ever hear of Little Christmas?" he asked her. "'Course," she said. "January sixth." "Nobody remembers it anymore." "Meant something in my time," she said. "My old man's too." Her voice picked up a tone of distracted pity. "Not yours, though." "Not mine," Bob agreed and felt a trapped