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M Quotes

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All M Quotes

“My grandfather was a Holocaust survivor and his life and history were very formative to myself and my family. The almost unimaginable dichotomy between the different eras of his life always crushed my brain on some level. That this guy who was shoveling carob chips out of a barrel and restocking yogurt popsicles could also have those numbers on his arm. It was an inconceivable juxtaposition. His experience was the main window for our family into any kind of social consciousness, or sense of history, or politics, even though a lot of it went unsaid.”

“My grandfather was a man, when he talked about freedom, his attitude was really interesting. His view was that you had obligations or you had responsibilities, and when you fulfilled those obligations or responsibilities, that then gave you the liberty to do other things. So the freedoms that we talk about today, the liberties that we talk about today were the benefits that you got from discharging your responsibilities.”

“My grandfather was a member of Parliament for 40 years. Obviously we're talking here South Africa, a whites only parliament. I grew up in a family that was very involved with the legal battles against apartheid—the great treason trials in the 1950s and early '60s, and later with the legal resources center that my mother founded. My father was involved with a number of very prominent cases that had political aspects to them, whether it was the inquest into the Sharpeville Massacre, the death of Steve Biko, or one of the trials of Nelson Mandela.”

“My grandfather was a most gifted person, and amongst his many qualities, one of them had always particularly impressed me. While the past was a book he had read and re-read may times, the future was just one more literary work of art into which he used to pour himself with deep thought and concentration. Innumerable people since his death have told me how he used to read in the future, and this certainly was one of his very great strengths.”

“My grandfather was a prominent executive at Chevron (oil), and of course my father is a fairly radical and progressive environmentalist. But he was also a very active Democrat and pacifist. More importantly, he was one of the best storytellers I've ever met. I think that trait has been passed down the line, even to my kids.”

“My grandfather was a railroad brakeman, sixty years with the D&H. I'd sit on his lap when I was little, I remember, at the upstairs apartment on Watkins Avenue in Oneonta overlooking the tracks, and we'd look out at the yard together and watch the trains hooking up, and he'd pull his gold watch out of his vest pocket and squint at the dial, a gold pocket watch, and the bulging surface of the watch case was all scritch-scratched, etched with tiny soft lines, hundreds of tiny scratches, interlaced. And then he'd check the yard, my Grandpa, to see if the trains were running on time. In those days there was a rhythm to everything, there was an order to things, but now we're riding a runaway train that's carrying us all away to that final night where nothing is remembered and nothing matters.”

“My grandfather was a voyageur, and lived to be of great age,” recalled “Old” Pierre, “and [he] told me the stories of the wild Indians of those days, and our brave French Canadians who were a match for them. There was a great man of whom he used to speak much, Monsieur de Langlade. […] My grandfather told me that when Langlade was a child about seven years of age, there was a war raging between the Ottawas, many of whom lived at Michilimackinac, and another tribe allied to the English. Twice the young men of the Ottawas had gone forth to attack a village of the enemy, and each time had they been driven back. The French officer at the fort urged them to make the attack again. The Ottawas were not willing. At last, their chief said that he had had a dream; that in the dream he saw a fight; that the young Langlade was there; and that in his dream the Ottawas seemed to win the day. The dream gave the young men courage on its being told them. They must be accompanied by the child Langlade, and they would go upon the war-path once more. The father Langlade, at first unwilling, at last agreed, but only on a pledge given by the boy that he would never disgrace his father by being a coward. The Ottawas were now ready to go forth; they advanced with the terrible war-cries of the [Natives]; inspired by the recollection of the dream and the presence of the boy, they gained the day […]. The young Langlade was now held in great honor; they said he was no doubt preserved by a mighty Manitou [“Great Spirit”].”

“My grandfather was an exceptional entrepreneur and philanthropist who moved from Palestine to Jordan and created an amazing group of companies. In a world where women were expected to get married and stay at home, he encouraged me from a very young age to get involved in business and work. He always took me with him on visits and I would spend my holidays at his office, running errands for him and observing what he did each day.”

“My grandfather was dying, and told the family he had decided to die. ... At that moment I wanted so badly to write and tell him that he was never going to die, that somehow he would always be present in my life, because he had a theory that death didn't exist, only forgetfulness did. He believed that if you can keep people in your memory, they will live forever. That's what he did with my grandmother.”

“My grandfather would have loved to have met you," he told her huskily. "He would have called you 'She Moves Trees Out of His Path.' " She looked lost, but his da laughed. He'd known the old man, too. "He called me 'He Who Must Run into Trees,'" Charles explained, and in a spirit of honesty, a need for his mate to know who he was, he continued, "or sometimes 'Running Eagle.' " " 'Running Eagle'?" Anna puzzled it over, frowning at him. "What's wrong with that?" "Too stupid to fly," murmured his father with a little smile.”