Quotes About Family

Even if you turn your back on the world you left, you're still pulled toward it, you're still turning around--always--to look behind you. To make sure everyone's okay.

Back then, that was as far as Iris could see—pregnancy, then birth, then a baby. She hadn't thought of the shame that would force her mother to move them out of Bushwick. Hadn't thought about the baby growing into a child and one day that child becoming her own age—and older than that.

I swallowed at once envying and adoring all the ways in which the word lovely could refer to my mother. So strange still, how different we were.

Somehow, my brother and I grew up motherless yet halfway whole. My brother had the faith my father brought him to, and for a long time, I had Sylvia, Angela, and Gigi, the four of us sharing the weight of growing up Girl in Brooklyn, as though it was a bag of stones we passed among ourselves saying, Here. Help me carry this.

Our land moved in grassy waves toward the water. The land ended at the water. Maybe my mother had forgotten this. And kept on walking.

My brother drove me to the subway, kissed my forehead, and hugged me hard. When had he become a man? For so long, he had been my little brother, sweet and solemn, his eyes open wide to the world. Now, behind small wire-rimmed glasses, he looked like a figure out of history. Malcolm maybe. Or Stokely.

The green of Tennessee faded quickly into the foreign world of Brooklyn, heat rising from cement. I thought of my mother often, lifting my hand to stroke my own cheek, imagining her beside me, explaining this newness, the fast pace of it, the impenetrable gray of it. When my brother cried, I shushed him, telling him not to worry. She's coming soon, I said, trying to echo her. She's coming tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

When you're young and your mother leaves, something inside of you fills up with the absence of her. I don't know how to explain. For a long time, there was this place inside of me where love for Marion should have been but wasn't.

We share in the sin of the world. We are involved in it because in spite of our faith we are and remain sinners; we are also involved in the sin of humanity through the various 'orders' of life created by God, so that when a an of my family, or of my nation, commits a sin, I am responsible before God for this transgression. Only this truth must not remain merely a verbal one.

I WAS BORN on the eighteenth of December, 1935, in the town Bourg-en-Bresse, about thirty miles northeast of Lyon, the second of three sons of Jeanne and Jean-Victor Pépin. Weighing only two and one half pounds, I nearly died at birth. The midwife lined a shoebox with dishtowels and put me inside, placing the makeshift incubator between two bricks that had been warmed on the stove.

I cooked at the White House for Easter, last year, with Michelle Obama. But it more had to do with cooking from the organic garden, and her message. I took my daughter and granddaughter there, and they were really charming, it was great.

This is what a family is all about - one another, sitting around the table at night. And it's very, very important, I think, for the kid to spend time not only around the table eating with their parents, but in the kitchen.

Everything has a foundation, and the foundation of Isl?m is our affection for the household of our Prophet.

A sin that accelerates death and annihilation of man is breaking off paying visits to one's own relatives.

In the Indian culture you never told your parents, your wife, your husband or your children, "I love you." This was not a part of this culture because the moment you say it, it's almost like it's not there. You're only trying to assert it. Love is not an assertion. Love is a supplication. An asserting mind can never be a loving mind.

My mum is a school teacher and my dad is an electrician.

My mom doesn't get the whole gay thing, but she loves me.

When Queer Eye hit, the church told my mom they were praying for me. She said, God loves him too. And I support him 100 percent.

It wasn't like that, darlin'." [Darcy] said quickly. "I swear on my mother's soul it wasn't!" Bronte bit her lip, trying not to smile. "Your mother is still living, is she not?" Darcy grinned sheepishly. "Yes, but…just the same.

Fue tuyo mientras quiso estar contigo —razonó mi papá—

Even though his sister was five years older, Jack couldn't help feeling jealous. Becca's skills were so impressive that coaches had moved her to the boys' team. Yes, Jack, often said, Becca's my sister. Yes, she plays hockey on the boys' team. For some reason, Jack usually had to give the info twice. Yes, she's my sister. Yes, she plays for the boys team.

I was given such a great gift. It's a miracle that never stops amazing me and reminding me to give thanks, every day. Having a wife and daughter gives me a lot more purpose. I was much more selfish before, but now I think about what kind of role model I'll be. I just want to be a better man.

Like father like son, like mother like daughter!

The word 'slut' (in patois) was repeated over and over, until suddenly I felt as if I were drowning in a well but instead of the well being filled with water it was filled with the word 'slut,' and it was pouring in through my eyes, my ears, my nostrils, my mouth. As if to save myself, I turned to her and said, 'Well, like father like son, like mother like daughter.