Quotes About Family

She waited until Jeremy's footsteps receded. "I didn't know you had a brother." "Now you do." He continued writing. "Do you have any other siblings?" "No." "Parents?" "I didn't crawl out of Hell, if that's what you are asking.

You read a lot?" Galina finally asked. "Yes. It's an escape into another world." She tried to keep her words light instead of sad, thoughts of her family in her head. "Sometimes that is the best part of a hard day.

Below birds crossing the lake of the sky and purple martins on power lines, down to the trees and one thing my brother said that stays with me from Long Island to Vermont, something about trees being conductors of spirit ...

Home is where the heart is.

What I used to do between writing fits was feed my kids, ride my horse and go shopping for cat and dog food.

Old family motto: "The best revenge is revenge.

In the sheltered simplicity of the first days after a baby is born, one sees again the magical closed circle, the miraculous sense of two people existing only for each other, the tranquil sky reflected on the face of the mother nursing her child.

It turns out that home is not mostly a place. Home is someone putting her arms around you and saying the words your heart longs to hear: always and everywhere.

At four that morning my son, Peter Williams Chambliss, slid into the world tiny and red and roaring with life and the awful love that caught and whirled me away when they laid him on my stomach was as strong and old as the earth and would, I knew dimly, abide as long.

Walter Parmenter sometimes seemed to his daughter a restless subterranean force held together by rituals.

This one day her mother gave her a basket of wine and cake to take to her grandmother because she was ill. Wine and cake? Where's the aspirin? The penicillin? Where's the fruit juice? Peter Rabbit got camomile tea. But wine and cake it was.

The bitterness and sense of defeat she experienced at her mother's accusation never quite left her. Nor did her need to please her father.

She sees to oars and oarlocks for the dinghy, has placed wild flowers at the window at breakfast, sat by the potter's wheel at midday, set forth three children under the moon, three cherubs drawn by Michelangelo, done this with her legs spread out in the terrible months in the chapel.

I have always made my own rules, in poetry as in life - though I have tried of late to cooperate more with my family. I do, however, believe that without order or pattern poetry is useless.

We have nothing to fear but our mothers.

she was one cocktail away from proving his mother right

Lets ignore our mothers' well-meant advice.

Who fed me from her gentle breast And hushed me in her arms to rest, And on my cheek sweet kisses prest? My Mother.

For my own family, I would always choose the makeshift, surrogate family formed by various characters unrelated by blood.

My family can always tell when I'm well into a novel because the meals get very crummy.

It is very difficult to live among people you love and hold back from offering them advice.

When you have children, you're obligated to live.

It seems to me that since I've had children, I've grown richer and deeper. They may have slowed down my writing for a while, but when I did write, I had more of a self to speak from.

Hazel should have done something—left a note, pretended she was going to go visit Jack's aunt Bernice. Something. She was so busy thinking about the one she needed to rescue she didn't think at all about the one she was leaving behind. She was supposed to take care of her mother, too. She was not supposed to be sipping honey tea with people who are just like the parents you think you are supposed to have. Her mother was what she had.