Quotes About Heritage

Do you come from old money, new money, or no money?

Thank God, I never was cheerful. I come from the happy stock of the Mathers, who, as you remember, passed sweet mornings reflecting on the goodness of God and the damnation of infants.

Yes, I heard my people singing!-in the glow of parlor coal-stove and on summer porches sweet with lilac air, from choir loft and Sunday morning pews-and my soul was filled with their harmonies.

I dream of a morning when Filipinos can wake up from the centuries-long sleep that took them from their past and denied them their destiny as a people.

A people's relationship to their heritage is the same as the relationship of a child to its mother.

Have a sense of pride in your motherland. Just as your mother has given birth to you, so too the land has given birth to you.

The Clan Mothers ran everything and had the last word. I think that's the answer.

My father's father came from Russia; my mother came from Romania.

I came from a divorced mother and father, obviously mixed race.

My father was a Methodist and my mother was a Baptist.

For us Indians, I don't think English can ever exude that magic of emotions which our mother tongue can.

For I am my mother's daughter, and the drums of Africa still beat in my heart.

My mother gave me one piece of advice that stuck with me. She said don't forget where you came from.

I am not ashamed to reply to you in my mother tongue, however imperfectly, and am glad to be able to show that my fatherland means more to me than anything else

The fact of simultaneously being Christian and having as my mother tongue Arabic, the holy language of Islam, is one of the basic paradoxes that have shaped my identity.

The rhythm of my body is the same as my mother tongue. It is in this rhythm where I find sanctity, that I can return to my mother who is everywhere in the universe.

And my daddy could play a harmonica and also the guitar, so I guess I got a little bit from both of 'em, but I think mostly from my mother's side of the family.

When I was four years old, my mother owned some tenements in the Bronx.

My father is black and my mother is white. Therefore, I could answer to either, which kind of makes me a racial Lone Ranger, caught between two communities.

I always knew that food and wine were vital, with my mother being Italian and a good cook.

I am lucky. I had a very beautiful mother.

I have good genes. My father is Danish and my mother is Irish and Native American. They both have good skin.

I have lost my mother, my father, my five, and ninety relatives in Poland. Poland is for me a cemetery.

I come from an interracial family: My father is from Nigeria, and so he is African-American, and my mother is American and white, so I rarely see skin color. It's never an issue for me.