Quotes About Family

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be the respected patriarch of an ordinary English family. Very boring, Emerson.

Nefret said with a gusty sigh, 'Well, that's done it. We may as well join in, Ramses, family arguments are the favorite form of amusement here and this looks like being a loud one.

He hesitated for a moment. Then he said softly, I love you, Mother. He took my hand and kissed it, and folded my fingers round the stem of the rose. He had stripped it of its thorns.

The only people who are not in awe of Emerson's powerful voice and well-nigh superhuman strength are the members of his own family. He is aware of this, and often complains about it; so from time to time I like to put on a little show of being intimidated. 'Proceed, my dear,' I said apologetically.

Sekhmet crawled onto Ramses's lap and began to purr. 'The creature oozes like a furry slug,' said Ramses, eyeing it without favor.

She is fiercely protective of all those she loves, Emerson. She would take your part just as vigorously if someone were unkind to you.' 'D'you think so?' Emerson considered this idea. 'I refuse to pick a quarrel with you so that Sennia can defend you. She'll get over it; just be polite to Gargery.' 'Damnation,' said Emerson

Emerson bent a tender look upon his son and heir. 'Very well, Ramses; Papa will find you all the dead bodies you want.

Have you caught cold?' 'It would appear so.' 'You could give it to Margaret,' Ramses suggested. His uncle turned the tinted spectacles toward him and then, unexpectedly, bust into laughter. 'What a charming idea. Will you aid and abet me when I catch her in a close embrace and breathe heavily on her?

For some reason his parents had a low opinion of his common sense.

For a time Emerson politely endeavored to conceal his boredom - like most men, he is profoundly disinterested in all children except his own - ...

Other attempts ensued. I was visited by streams of attentive nieces and nephews assuring me of their devotion—which had been demonstrated, over the past years, by their absence.

When my grandmother touches my hair in my sleep, I feel like a lost child. There is never enough of her to comfort me.

It never registered to them that I had time to read all of Balzac, Dickens, and Stendhal while Papa was dying, not to mention everything in the city library after Mother's operation. It would have been exactly the same to them if I had read through all twenty-six volumes of Elsie Dinsmore. (The White Azalea)

Oh, my dear, relations are like drugs, - useful sometimes, and even pleasant, if taken in small quantities and seldom, but dreadfully pernicious on the whole, and the truly wise avoid them.

My step-mother looked at me at least once on each of these miserable days, and said: 'Rose-Marie, you look very odd. I hope you are not going to have anything expensive. Measles are in Jena, and also the whooping-cough.' 'Which of them is the cheapest?' I inquired. 'Both are beyond our means,' said my step-mother severely.

Her family held strongly that for daughters to read in the daytime was to be idle. Well, if it was, thought Ingeborg lifting her head, that head that drooped so apologetically at home, with the defiance that distance encourages, then being idle was a blessed thing and the sooner one got away to where one could be it, uninterruptedly, the better.

Did I ever tell you how pretty she was? She was so very pretty, and so adorably nimble of tongue. Quick, glancing, vivid, she twinkled in the heavy Jena firmament like some strange little star. She led Papa and me by the nose, and we loved it.

What a mercy it was that Alice was only his sister, and not his wife; for so at least, though he had to listen to her during the day, he hadn't got to during the night.

The evil times had come of eking out, of making do. At least, my husband seemed to regard the times we had arrived at as evil, but that was because he was in the unfortunate position of having a past to compare them with. I, who had practically no past, and whose family had never fallen from glory for the reason that it had had no glory to fall from, thought the times wholly delightful; and anyhow I rather liked camphor.

Mother must have been kissed too, and she's still alive …

I loved my mother. I wanted her to smile, to believe that I was doing the right thing. But that wasn't going to happen. So I ducked my head and kept on going.

My God, I could raise a family of six children and hold down a full-time job with all the energy I expend on depression!

As someone very sagely said during the parricide trials of the Menendez Brothers: anytime your kids kill you, you are at least partly to blame.

I come from a family of screamers. If they are trying to express any emotion or idea beyond pass the salt, it comes in shrieks.