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Family Relationships Quotes

Browse 476 quotes about Family Relationships.

Family Relationships Quotes

“Unfortunately, some family members are so psychotic that no matter how hard you try to forge a healthy relationship, nothing will help. Now that you're an adult, take refuge in the fact that some things are beyond your control. You owe it to yourself to steer clear of people who are harmful to your health.”

“When I was about nine, my siblings and I fell out of our moving van at an intersection. My dad didn’t notice for about five blocks. It was back before seat belts. It was also back before parents used any sort of common sense whatsoever. It was a time when you didn’t raise your children. You just fed them and they got bigger.”

“Crawford and I are enjoying a hotly-contested game of tiddlywinks when Dad arrives to announce that dinner is ready. We make our way through to the dining room and take our seats at the old mahogany table, which is full of food. We all spend the obligatory few seconds oohing and aahing over the wonderful job Dad’s done, before tucking in. Within five minutes, the room is alive with conversation. To my left, Sophie is trying to decide which fictional world she would most like to live in, while at the other end of the table, Pete is holding forth to my parents about something that appears to involve salt, pepper, and both his forks. Across from me, Crawford is complaining loudly that the sauce on his pasta’s the wrong colour, and Rose is rattling off the impressive list of things that’ll be taken away from him if he doesn’t eat it. Ellie, bless her, is oblivious. She’s planted in her booster seat beside Rose, and most of her pasta is on her face or in her lap.”

“Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices?”

“Dear Lord," he said, "let me be like Aron. Don’t make me mean. I don’t want to be. If you will let everybody like me, why, I’ll give you anything in the world, and if I haven’t got it, why, I’ll go for to get it. I don’t want to be mean. I don’t want to be lonely. For Jesus’ sake, Amen.” Slow warm tears were running down his cheeks. His muscles were tight and he fought against making any crying sound or sniffle. Aron whispered from his pillow in the dark, "You're cold. You've got a chill." He stretched out his hand to Cal's arm and felt the goose bumps there. He asked softly, "Did Uncle Charles have any money?" "No," said Cal. "Well, you were out there long enough. What did Father want to talk about?" Cal lay still, trying to control his breathing. "Don't you want to tell me?" Aron asked. "I don't care if you don't tell me." "I'll tell," Cal whispered. He turned on his side so that his back was toward his brother. "Father is going to send a wreath to our mother. A great big goddam wreath of carnations." Aron half sat up in bed and asked excitedly, "He is? How's he going to get it clear there?" "On the train. Don't talk so loud." Aron dropped back to a whisper. "But how's it going to keep fresh?" "With ice," said Cal. "They're going to pack ice all around it." Aron asked, "Won't it take a lot of ice?" "A whole hell of a lot of ice," said Cal. "Go to sleep now." Aron was silent, and then he said, "I hope it gets there fresh and nice." "It will," said Cal. And in his mind he cried, "Don't let me be mean.”

“There’s no need to look so glum,’ my mother says. ‘Cheer up a little, won’t you?’ When my mother gives an order, it’s best to follow without question. Lorraine Halliday is a woman the winds and tides obey. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, swallowing down my emotion. ‘I’ll be stronger.’ ‘I should think so. These things happen when you get old, Tom. I’m no spring chicken, you know.’ ‘You’re sixty-four,’ I say. My mother considers this for a moment. ‘Well, I feel old.”

“When my friends began to have babies and I came to comprehend the heroic labor it takes to keep one alive, the constant exhausting tending of a being who can do nothing and demands everything, I realized that my mother had done all of these things for me before I remembered. I was fed; I was washed; I was clothed; I was taught to speak and given a thousand other things, over and over again, hourly, daily, for years. She gave me everything before she gave me nothing.”

“Energy is the power that drives every human being. It is not lost by exertion but maintained by it, for it is a faculty of the psyche. It is driven to perverted manifestations by curbs and checks. Like the motive force that drives the car along the highway, when it meets with an obstacle it turns to destructive force and shakes its source to pieces. It is not too hard to point out to the averagely perceptive human being that women have plenty of the destructive kind of energy, but far fewer people can see that women's destructiveness is creativity turned in upon itself by constant frustration. Nervous diseases, painful menstruation, unwanted pregnancies, accidents of all kinds, are all evidence of women's energy destroying them. It extends beyond them wreaking havoc with the personalities and achievements of others, especially their husbands and their children. That is not to say that women must hate all their relatives, but that if children are presented to women as a duty and marriage as an inescapable yoke, then the more energy they have the more they will fret and chafe, tearing themselves and their dependants to pieces.”

“Estaba siendo capaz por primera vez, que yo recordara, de permitirme recibir el amor y el cariño de mis padres; no del modo que yo había esperado en otros tiempos, sino del modo en que ellos eran capaces de dármelo. Algo se había abierto dentro de mí. No me importaba cómo podían o no podían quererme, Lo que importaba era cómo podía recibir yo lo que ellos podían darme. Eran los mismos padres de siempre. La diferencia estaba en mí.”

“When people thought of mothers, they smelled cookies baking and chocolate melting. But actual mothers got shit for giving their kids too much sugar. When people thought of mothers, they thought soft and warm and cuddly. But actual mothers went to great lengths to eradicate their soft warm cuddly bits. When people thought of mothers, they thought of mama bears and cheerleaders–fierce love and unconditional support–but actual mothers were accused of coddling and helicoptering.”

“When trans ideology comes to a family, it is like a bomb drops and relationships are decimated, the profound ripple effects spreading from the point of detonation.”