Quotes about Family

If I cannot give my children a perfect mother I can at least give them more of the one they've got--and make that one more loving. I will be available. I will take time to listen, time to play, time to be home when they arrive from school, time to counsel and encouerage.

Prodigals are not limited in gender, race, age or color. They do have one thing in common: They have left home, and they are missed.

Do not let your bachelor ways crystallize so that you can't soften them when you come to have a wife and a family of your own.

love of family, love of truth, love of justice, and (thanks to him!) to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion, Brutus; and the conception of a state with one law for all, based upon individual equality and freedom of speech, and of a sovrainty which prizes above all things the liberty of the subject;

Nevertheless, blood is thicker than water, as anyone knows who has tasted both.

The hands reaching in among the leaves and spines were once my mother's. I've passed them on. Decades ahead, you'll study your own temporary hands, and you'll remember. Don't cry, this is what happens.

Books and characters in books, pictures and elements in pictures—they all have families and ancestors, just like people.

We talked about our real mothers and how we wanted to know who they'd been. Perhaps we ought not to have shared so much, but it was very comforting. "I wish I had a sister," she said to me one day. "And if I did, that person would be you.

They meet in church basements and offer bandages to those wounded by the shrapnel of exploding families.

No mother is ever, completely, a child's idea of what a mother should be, and I suppose it works the other way around as well. But despite everything, we didn't do badly by one another, we did as well as most.

Be a good girl, she said. I hope you'll be a good sister to Laura. I know you try to be. I nodded. I didn't know what to say. I felt I was the victim of an injustice: why was it always me who was supposed to be a good sister to Laura, instead of the other way around? Surely my mother loved Laura more than she loved me.

Besides, who would think of marrying a mothball? A question my mother put to me often, later, in other forms.