Quotes About Brotherhood

Roses are red Violets are blue I am your brother And you are mine, too.

Young man I think I know you—I think this face is the face of the Christ himself,Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love.

velké bratrství mladých lidí bez rozdílu p?vodu, rasy a vyznání.

The best cure for racism is to have somebody shoot at you. Man, it does not matter then what color the arse is that comes to save yours-black or white, you're ready to give it a big fat kiss.

Üzüntümle öylesine kayna?m???m ki" diyorum, "böylesine sarma? dola? bir karde?lik hakk?nda konu?maya al???k de?ilim

Don't fight if you can help it. But if one of you gets whipped by somebody both of you best come home bloody, understand?

The story of Cain and Abel from the book of Genesis teaches ... the lesson of social responsibility... The answer to the question 'Am I my brother's keeper?' is a resounding yes"31

The kid was his brother in every way but blood - without him, Thomas would've broken long ago.

The boy's bravery solidified something in Thomas's heart. He loved the kid. He loved him as if they had the same mum.

Fine," he said after a long stare down with his leader. "But if they do jump you and slit your throat, we'll get along just fine without ya." "Thanks for the kind words, hermano.

Chingachgook grasped the hand that, in the warmth of feeling, the scout had stretched across the fresh earth, and in that attitude of friendship these intrepid woodsmen bowed their heads together, while scalding tears fell to their feet, watering the grave of Uncas like drops of falling rain.

Every man needs a place to be open and vulnerable with brothers leaning together upon the Lord.

Plain and simple, men need community with other men. Loving, you-before-me, dedicated relationship. If you have never had it, you don't really get it yet, and if you had that community and lost it, you know the cavity it leaves in your soul until you discover it again.

Strong men serving together thrive in the strength their friendship provides.

He can make you want to knock him down, if he feels like it, by simply saying "good morning". He possibly said simply "good morning" to Lord Culter. The difference was that, being his brother, Culter hit him.

Except once, long ago, over an estrangement with his wife Mariotta, Lord Culter had never been jealous of the young brother he had seen grow from babyhood. Until the moment Francis had left home at sixteen, a prisoner of war to the English, Richard knew him solely as a blond and delicate boy, interested only, it seemed, in reading and music, whose apparent fragility concealed a will of steel, and a turn of phrase which could wound like a sword-cut.

Considering Lymond, flat now on the bed in wordless communion with the ceiling, Richard spoke. My dear, you are only a boy. You have all your life still before you. On the tortoise-shell bed, his brother did not move. But there was no irony for once in his voice when he answered. Oh, yes, I know. The popular question is, For what?

I'll take care of it,' said Richard Crawford quietly, and Lymond lifted his head. 'Oh, Richard. Timely as ever. I want.…' 'I know what you want,' said Lord Culter comfortably, and hooked an arm under his brother's stained shoulders. 'I doubt it,' said Lymond drily.

The guiding hand at one's pony; the voice at one's porridge bowl; the splendid athlete one watched from one's books in the cold tower window, while outside in the sunshine he rode at the ring, threw his spears, matched his sword with the master-at-arms. The brother who had cared for him, a grown man in illness, and defended him against calumny, and who at length, heartbroken at his defection, had turned his back on him a year ago in Scotland.

Richard walked over to him. It was not a long way but he walked slowly, as if he were tired, and halted, eventually, face to face with his younger brother. He said, 'Change your mind. It is the last chance in life you may have.' Spoken soberly, with all the honesty of which he was capable, it was neither threat nor impassioned appeal but a simple plea, simply put. To which Lymond, looking him in the eyes, shook his head.

Later, learning to know him, a friendship had grown: odd, irregular; at times surprisingly deep. And at times marred, it seemed wantonly, by Lymond's excesses and his own lack of trust towards Richard which again and again had caused his older brother anger and misery.

How do you take leave, for all time, of a brother?" "You wish him well," Lymond said, "if that is what is in your mind. And you accept from him his understanding, and his pity, and his fellowship as he is driven, as you are, through the world.

And Richard was silent, for the truth Jerott had seen touched him, too, for a moment before he thrust it aside. He said, instead, 'Once, I returned, by mistake, a present you gave me.' As when he had come in, fresh from the wind, surprise and pleasure roused, for an instant, all the colour in his brother's face. Francis Crawford said, 'I have kept it, in case one day you might want it. If you do … It makes worthwhile this part, at least, of the journey.