Quotes About Brother

As Brother Jack had said, History makes harsh demands of us all. But they were demands that had to be met if men were to be the masters and not the victims of their times. Did I believe that? Perhaps I had already begun to pay.

the men, the women, the children; the old with the young, the decrepit with the lusty—all equal before sleep, death's brother.

The idleness of a passenger, my isolation amongst all these men with whom I had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform sombreness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of these things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion. The voice of the surf now and then was a positive pleasure, like the speech of a brother. It was something natural, that had its reason, that had a meaning.

At bedtime the demon brother sank into sleep with the abruptness of a rock sinking into dark water, come to rest in the soft dark mud below.

12By Silvanus, our faithful brother (as I consider him), I have written to you briefly, to counsel and testify that this is the true grace [the undeserved favor] of God. Stand firm in it!

My name is Nick Sinclair, he said, and watched the young man's curious smile change to open animosity. I would like to see Lauren. I'm Lauren's brother, the young man retorted, and she doesn't want to see you. Her brother! Nick's momentary relief was followed by an absurd impulse to smash the younger man's face for stealing Lauren's allowances when she was a little girl. I've come to see her, Nick stated impacably, and if I have to walk over you to get to her, I will.

love—not imposed order—is the nature of his church. That's why his church is a family: a Father inviting us to take our place in his home; an older brother, Jesus, who empathizes with our struggles and offers us grace in time of need; a Spirit who empowers us; and brothers and sisters who can live alongside us with love and honor. The church reflects the best of what a family can be. It is

were to die, even if one's brother or darling son should be killed before one's eyes. The drug is called nepenthê, which means "no grief," the penthê in nepenthê deriving from the noun penthos, "grief." It is, indeed, a word formed much the same way that anodyne, "without pain," the word that points to the origins

Joy and peace are manifestations of the presence of God, and your brother and sister are His perfect expression. You now understand that there is no need to alter perfection.

The boy known as Newt had not been immune to the Flare. No, he hadn't been immune in the slightest, unlike most of his friends in the Maze. But he was the cure. Yes. That boy. The one named Newt, Subject A4, the Glue, brother to Sonya... The Cure.

Consequently their relationship with their dead brother was of the most intimate sort, his strong, bright, immutable character shining changelessly against the vagueness and vacillation of their own characters, and the characters of people that they knew; and they grew up believing that this was due to some rare, angelic incandescence of nature on Robin's part, and not at all to the fact that he was dead.

Don't stop,' said Lymond pleasantly. 'You've my father, my brother, my late sister and a whole clecking of aunts to get through. Auntie May is a good one to start with. Fifteen stone, and every spring she goes broody; and we find her out in the hen run on a clutch of burst yolks; except the year mother got there first and hard-boiled them.

So this was Richard's brother. Every line of him spoke, palimpsest-wise, with two voices. The clothes, black and rich, were vaguely slovenly; the skin sun-glazed and cracked; the fine eyes slackly lidded; the mouth insolent and self-indulgent. He returned the scrutiny without rancour.

We met once when you were a boy, at Midculter.' He paused. 'You are not like your brother.' 'No,' Crawford said. He gave his hand another shake and then loosed it with apparent reluctance. 'Richard will never be whipped at a cart-arse for bawdry. I don't know whether you notice, but he wears nothing but mockado and fustian. The graveyard at Culter is full of pauperized mercers.

Lymond is back." It was known soon after the Sea-Catte reached Scotland from Campvere with an illicit cargo and a man she should not have carried. "Lymond is in Scotland." It was said by busy men preparing for war against England, with contempt, with disgust; with a side-slipping look at one of their number. "I hear the Lord Culter's young brother is back." Only sometimes a woman's voice would say it with a different note, and then laugh a little.

Good God, here am I with stockings in either hand, panting towards restitution. I merely require you to keep my soul out of the general conversation.' 'And your brother's soul?' said James Stewart. He was drawling again. 'I understood,' said Lymond, 'that you had that in hand.

His elder brother, grey eyes level, held his gaze. "Perfection frightens me," he said. "They're too good, Francis. What do you want this axe-edge for?" "To cut with," said Lymond, his voice mild.

A reluctant watchdog, Culter held a post of small dignity, vulnerable to a thousand shafts of wit … which did not arrive. Francis at his most quiet, his most responsible showed his elder brother the face, Adam thought, his friends sometimes saw. And from that realized that Francis, in those final days, was drawing from obscurity an old friendship, to be remembered later maybe, and recognized.

How about that, my own brother, my own bright light, thou Igor?

It was your brother. He must be insane." "Not insane, dear." Sybilla, speaking gently, contradicted. "Not insane. But magnificently drunk, I fear.

My brother, being an English gentleman, possesses a library in all his houses, though he never opens a book. This is called fidelity to ancient tradition.

He didn't look like an old hippie. Of course, you never could tell. His own elder brother had once spent a couple of years living in a Druidic commune, eating LSD doughnuts, and thinking he was a tree, since when he had gone on to become a director of a merchant bank.

I had seen my brother's name in the Cinema Palace newspaper advertisements. If I climbed back up the winding path on the hill I had just come down, I would be at his home. As I have been writing this, a poem by Nakamura Kusadato suddenly comes to mind: Coming down the winding trail, The springtime voice of the crying calf.

Uekusa Keinosuke has also said my personality is like that of a sunflower, so there must be some truth to the allegation that I am more sanguine than my brother was. But I prefer to think of my brother as a negative strip of film that led to my own development as a positive image.