Quotes About Sister

I think I am very fortunate to have my sister, who is always there to guide me and my food and lodging has been taken care of. Since my basic need of life is secure, when it comes to working, I never appeared like a desperate struggler who needs the job to run the kitchen.

On the lips of my enemy, my sister's lover, my lover's killer, I taste the punishment I deserve. I taste oblivion.

I was a twenty-two-year-old single white female alone in a strange country where my sister had been killed.

The dark fever I'd caught that first night I'd set foot in Dublin had turned into a fever of a different kind: a bloodfever—as in I wanted blood, spilled for my sister.

I look for my sister but it's hopeless. The goggles are all fogged up. Every fish burns lantern-bright, and I can't tell the living from the dead. It's all just blurry light, light smeared like some celestial fingerprint all over the rocks and the reef and the sunken garbage. Olivia could be everywhere.

I say nothing. But I keep thinking: It's been two years. What if all the Olivia-ness has already seeped out of her and evaporated into the violet welter of clouds? Evaporated, and rained down, and evaporated, and rained down. Olivia slicking over all the rivers and trees and dirty cities in the world. So that now there is only silt, and our stupid, salt-diluted longing. And nothing left of our sister to find.

She was still loping around on all fours, her fists blue-white from the strain. As if she were holding a secret tight to the ground. Sister Maria de la Guardia would sigh every time she saw her. " Caramba! " She'd sit down with Mirabella and pry her fingers apart. "You see?" she'd say softly, again and again. "What are you holding on to? Nothing, little one. Nothing.

As a kid I heard the word malignancy as "Malig-Nancy" like an evil woman's name, no matter how many times Kiwi and the Chief and Dr. Gautman himself corrected me. Our mother had mistaken her first symptoms for a pregnancy, and so I still pictured the Malig-Nancy as a baby, a tiny, eyeless fist of a sister, killing her.

A volte penso che il dottore giusto saprebbe aprirmi il petto e trovarla lì, mia sorella, incastonata dentro di me, come un viso su un medaglione

Strong winds buffet the sea oats and tall dune grasses, tossing sand and seabirds where it will, winding my sister's golden hair into sunlit spirals of silk until it becomes the only good memory I have of her -- the only memory I allowed myself to keep.

The feelings I had for my sister were jumbled together, like the monkeys in a barrel game we'd had as children. All the brightly colored monkeys with their curved arms tangled and entwined, so convoluted that it was almost impossible to separate them.

The moon, the earth's silent, smaller sister, pulled together out of dust and rock into this magical silver companion.

Watching his sister be a mother was perhaps the greatest argument for marriage. And watching his niece spit up on her was perhaps the best argument against procreation.

Well, that settles it," Jason said with mock severity. "Such condescension tells me what I had long suspected." "Which is . . ." "That George Bambridge was not raised with the benefit of a sister.

If you are working inwardly, Nature will help you. For the man who is working, Nature is sister of charity; she brings him what he needs for his work. If you need money for your work, even if you do nothing to get it, the money will come to you from all sides.

And so I went with her to the Tambov province. She stayed with the prince's sister, who became very fond of her and took her abroad where they lived for long periods, particularly in Italy. Little by little, under the influence of the prince's sister and the prince himself, she grew interested in their ideas, which soon became an integral part of her essence. She began to work on herself in earnest, and anyone who met her, even if only once, could feel the result of that work.

The Curé Noive had a sister who acted as his housekeeper, a lady with a moustache, whose piety was astringent, and who fostered a splenetic God in a heart which was outraged at anything gracious, tender, or lovable that life might offer. There are such cross-grained natures, made spiteful and furious by anything that looks like happiness.

I'm not in trouble, am I?" "No. Why would you be in trouble?" Because lately, Sadie was almost always in trouble. It was impossible to be eleven, with a sick sister, and for people to find your conduct beyond reproach. She was always saying the wrong thing, or being too loud, or demanding too much (time, love, food), even though she had not demanded more than what had been freely given before. "No reason.

From Nic's point of view, her older sister had been a primer on how not to live her life.

Alice was clever, but she had the kind of cleverness that verged on the unkind, and this had only gotten worse in the years since she had been diagnosed with leukemia. Sadie didn't want Sam viewed through her sister's acute and often unforgiving lens.

It's my sister. She's sick." "What's wrong with her?" "Dysentery.

Maybe the first time that you know you really care about something is when you think about it not being there, and when you know-you really know-that the emptiness is as much as inside you as outside you. For it falls out, that what we have we prize not to the worth whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, why, then we rack the value, then we find the virtue that possession would not show us while it was ours. That's when I knew for the first time that I really did love my sister.

You will form a very inadequate estimate of a man's character, if you judge by what a fond sister says of him. The worst of them generally know how to hide their misdeeds from their sisters' eyes, and their mother's, too.

Here is the answer to the letter I received from our dear sister in the Lord; please give it to her. She seems so full of good will, but she wants to go faster than grace allows. It is not possible to become spiritually mature all at once.