Quotes About Family

Gracious, my girl. Are you going to mope about, or are you going to ease your uncle's and cousin's burdens?

I couldn't really mean what my poems said. Could any sane person really oppose hope, romance, love, marriage, children, family: the most basic materials of human society? Was I—the cool and composed sweetheart of the smart set, the Girl Poet made flesh—secretly a monster for entertaining such suspicions?

Then the feeling passed and I felt all right. I loved them both, but neither Abe nor my mother had any purchase on me. They could say what they liked, and I would love them still, but I would not change my behavior, would not change my mind.

My older brother never came to visit me. He did write me letters, though: distant and condescending ones, because those were the shallow pools in which his small mind swam.

Good and bad, he was taken for granted; she was much more lenient to him than to any of the children. She welcomed the fast-coming babies as gifts from God, marvelled over their tiny perfectness, dreamed over the soft relaxed little forms with a heart almost

She secretly regarded her children as marvellous, even while she laughed down their youthful conceit and punished their naughtiness.

I want to be your wife, your lover, your mate for life. I want to feel you inside me, to be one with you, to bear your children, to possess you as you possess me, to touch you as often as I wish, and to feel you quicken in my grasp. I need you... most desperately.

Young'uns!" Mrs. P. interrupted. "No bad language, not at the table, please. And need I remind you, I am the table!

We dug the asparagus, and tonight Aunt Charlotte cooked it for me herself with butter and melted cheese. I ate a whole plateful and drank half the brown jug of sweet milk. Then I had two slices of the thick coarse-grain bread that Aunt and the nuns make fresh every day.

My own brother. My very own brother is Metal Beak and he wants to kill me.

Mum! Da!" he cried out in his half sleep.

To belong did not mean ownership. You were not someone's property. The "be" syllable was about existence: "to be" yourself and "to be" in a special place that no one else could occupy within your family except you. The "long" part was about the heart, a place in the heart where a family met and lived together. They didn't just put up with each other. They longed for each other. To belong was not a state of mind but a state of heart.

How can you ask? Would I not follow the only thing on this Earth that I love? You are all I have left. Of course, dear child. I'll go with you to the end of time, to the end of space, and place. I'd cross oceans and borders-borders between centuries and between Kentucky and Indiana or Ohio or Michigan.

Her family as well as others had been the recipient of prime cuts of venison that mysteriously appeared in their larders. She laughed at the memory of Fynn's face when she had caught him in her larder during a downpour when no one in their right mind would have been abroad.

Children with loving parents who enjoy them, play with them, and offer guidance and suggestions as they explore their environment will be healthy, emotionally well-adjusted, and psychologically advanced.

And if they are lucky enough to be exposed to multiple languages, they will master all of them, as long as the languages are presented in a natural context, such as when dad speaks Spanish and mom speaks English or the live-in nanny speaks French.

each week, before they dealt the cards, my father presented his typed report on himself and my mother to Marika, who copied it in her hand, then burned the original.

When Salter was fifty-five, his twenty-five-year-old daughter, Allan, died in an electrical accident. She was in the shower in a cabin next door to his in Aspen. He walked in and found her lying naked on the floor, the water running. He carried her dead body in his arms. He took her outside and tried to resuscitate her, somehow thinking she was drowning. We do not talk about this. He says only, "There was the wreckage of that.

Abruptly, she said, I wonder what she did to so alienate our father that he disinherited her. Do you know? Supposedly… she ran off with Glen Sabella. He was a mechanic, and he was married. Gossip had it that your father was furious, especially since— Since both his wife and his other daughter had also run off without a word.

When both she and I had to deal with our respective demons, my sister saw the darkness as being within and part of herself, the family and the world. I, instead, saw it as a stranger; however lodged within my mind and soul the darkness became, it almost always seemed an outside force that was at war with my natural self.

Like my father, I looked up rather more than I looked out.

I was one of many who owed their lives to the black circles and squares in Schou's family tree.

Parents also seriously underestimate the extent of depression in their adolescent children.

My mother told me a million times that Ireland and the Irish people were special, and that the O'Cadhain family in particular was the most blessed of all because it had been imposed upon without cease since the dawn it sprung up in Galway. For centuries they had been in training to have nothing, so everything was more or less working perfectly according to God's plan.