Best 262 of Sisters quotes - MyQuotes
Arabella did not need backup. Most of the time she was the backup, the field artillery, and the air support, but Nevada taught me to always have an exit strategy.
Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other.
Lailah Gifty Akita
We are brothers and sisters. We are one sacred family.
Sea sisters, Susa had called them once. Two pearls formed in the same oyster.
Hold on," Marjan said, reaching behind a tin of pistachio nougats. She found the bottle, unscrewing the cap as her back was turned to her sisters. She upended it, letting the rosewater, the priceless tears of that queen of blossoms, pool in her cupped hand. She turned back to Bahar and smiled. "Better late than never," she said, showering her sister with a brand-new day.
I’m trying to be an adult. I’m trying to be responsible. I’m trying not to call home crying. But it’s hard. It’s hard when every morning feels like a hangover. It’s hard when I hear voices every time I go to sleep. It’s hard when the only thing that would make me feel better is to crawl in bed with the one person who truly knows me, but I’m more afraid of her than the bears or the perverts or whoever the hell visits her when I’m away.
My father is using me as a message of hope. My sister is using me as a message of fear. I don't want to be used by anybody.
A part of me expects more of my only sister....Dorothy has always been exactly who she is, and for me to hope for anything better reminds me of a quote attributed to Einstein: Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Dorothy is predictable. She does the same thing repeatedly and expects not a different result but the same one she got the last time she did whatever she wants with little regard for anyone else. So maybe she's the sane one....
When it comes to sisters, it seems one stays and one goes, one remains bound and the other is set free. She is who she is in good part because of who Gloria isn't. In order to be herself, in order to be different from her sister, she had to take what was left over, the opposite, unchosen road. She is both glad and furious about it.
Words cannot describe how much I miss you. I miss you like the sun misses the moon every night. I feel like we'll always just be orbiting on opposite sides of the earth.
It's Miranda who speaks up. "You're gay," she says, with complete seriousness. "And I love you.
I understood that this sister of mine was going to live somewhere else, away from us...This information did not make me thing of the baby as less mine. She was my sister, like my brother was my brother and my mother was my mother. The adoptive parents' claim on my developing sister did not negate mine, she was not a kingdom or a territory or a thing with a deed; she was a person. This baby girl would be both my sister and these other people's daughter, and my mom's daughter. there would be moments when one claim took focus-- as right now this baby girl was more Ours than Theirs, and one day she would be more Theirs than Ours, but none of those connections could completely erase the others. It would be easier, perhaps, if they could, if after she was gone we could forget this baby ever belonged to us. But that's not how people work.
Back to the land of freedom. Back to breaking the law with her sisters to make sure justice got served. God, just the thought had her tingling all over.
In the silence that ensued, Mariana turned her gaze on Callie. Ignoring her sister's pleading look, the younger woman offered a smile befitting The Allendale Angel, and said, sweetly, "Callie, it appears that you have a visitor.' Callie's gaze narrowed. There was truly nothing worse in the wide world than a sister.
How rarely these few years, as work keeps up aloof, Or fares, or one thing or another, How we had days to spend under our parents' roof; Myself, my sister, and my brother. All five of us will die; to reckon from the past This flesh and blood is unforgiving. What's hard is that just one of us will be the last To bear it all and go on living.
The two half sisters, strangers to each other, sat at the breakfast counter looking out at the unhindered view of the hills.
Erica Sehyun Song
She was not in the body of a young woman but just as I remembered her: a little toddler with a beautiful smile. She reached out with her small hand, and I gripped her tiny fingers as I let go of the pain and sank deeper into the lake.
There is a language every sister knows, a language tender beyond words and rarely spoken. It runs like a string between two hearts, and we only pluck that string in times of trouble. This night [...] we speak as sisters.
Lailah Gifty Akita
We don't even know we are family of faith?
Something good happens to you, and you let off a different energy that attracts other good things.
The two sisters were connected by neither love nor mutual affinity but by a very small bathroom that could be entered from the bedroom on either side.
I pray for my sister. That she be allowed to discover grace and find peace without drugs. That her hair grows. That some of her pain be driven from her and given to me because I think I can handle it. I pray for her kids. That they find they have a chance to grow up knowing they were loved.
Snow stepped forward and slapped Josette, who slapped her back. Emmaline dropped the spoon and slapped them both - she had never slapped her child, or any child, before that moment. It happened so quickly - like a scene choreographed by the Three Stooges, which was what saved it. Emmaline started crying, then Snow. The three of them clung together. I want to cut off my hand, wept Emmaline. I never slapped you girls before. We should each cut our hands off, wailed Snow. Then making frybread two of us will have to stand together, you know, like each use our remaining hand, pat, pat. Josette and Snow demonstrated. Pat, pat, how pitiful, cry-laughed Emmaline.
... We're just different." "Yeah," I say. "I'm mute and you have verbal diarrhea.
She would seize every opportunity to dive into the bathroom, in a swirl of white towels, and once in there she was as hard to dislodge as a limpet from a rock.
Sharad Vivek Sagar
I know I could’ve been on the other side of the line too. I refuse to accept injustice and inequality because I know it can be against any one of us, our brothers and sisters and friends and family. I know it’s personal. I know this is our only chance, our only planet, our only shot. And, I know this is my brick.
It's the person that calls you up because they're eating at ‘our favorite spot,’ and it made them think of you and miss being there with you. That's a friend, to me.
Well, don't take this the wrong way, but can I see what you bought? Because sometimes I think your idea of sexy is a little off.
We're not doing anything until I find my sister,' I say
All women is brothers,' Burley Coulter used to say, and then look at you with a dead sober look as if he didn't know why you thought that was funny. But, as usual, he was telling the truth. Or part of it.
Laurie Halse Anderson
We were secret sisters with a plan for world domination, potential bubbling around us like champagne.
After all, Betty was ill and she was her sister, and she wouldn't be able to shave her legs for weeks because of the plaster.
[S]isters could do a great deal for their brothers, if they would.
Pleading for forgiveness was always on the tip of her tongue. She had tried doing a good thing, but because of one thoughtless act, his two beautiful daughters were brutally raped, and running to the other side of the world hadn’t helped. Because of her, two innocent ADP employees were dead. She was older but not a shekel wiser, still opening the wrong doors.
Louisa May Alcott
In The Garret Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago, By children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side, With faded ribbons, brave and gay When fastened there, with childish pride, Long ago, on a rainy day. Four little names, one on each lid, Carved out by a boyish hand, And underneath there lieth hid Histories of the happy band Once playing here, and pausing oft To hear the sweet refrain, That came and went on the roof aloft, In the falling summer rain. 'Meg' on the first lid, smooth and fair. I look in with loving eyes, For folded here, with well-known care, A goodly gathering lies, The record of a peaceful life-- Gifts to gentle child and girl, A bridal gown, lines to a wife, A tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, For all are carried away, In their old age, to join again In another small Meg's play. Ah, happy mother! Well I know You hear, like a sweet refrain, Lullabies ever soft and low In the falling summer rain. 'Jo' on the next lid, scratched and worn, And within a motley store Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn, Birds and beasts that speak no more, Spoils brought home from the fairy ground Only trod by youthful feet, Dreams of a future never found, Memories of a past still sweet, Half-writ poems, stories wild, April letters, warm and cold, Diaries of a wilful child, Hints of a woman early old, A woman in a lonely home, Hearing, like a sad refrain-- 'Be worthy, love, and love will come,' In the falling summer rain. My Beth! the dust is always swept From the lid that bears your name, As if by loving eyes that wept, By careful hands that often came. Death canonized for us one saint, Ever less human than divine, And still we lay, with tender plaint, Relics in this household shrine-- The silver bell, so seldom rung, The little cap which last she wore, The fair, dead Catherine that hung By angels borne above her door. The songs she sang, without lament, In her prison-house of pain, Forever are they sweetly blent With the falling summer rain. Upon the last lid's polished field-- Legend now both fair and true A gallant knight bears on his shield, 'Amy' in letters gold and blue. Within lie snoods that bound her hair, Slippers that have danced their last, Faded flowers laid by with care, Fans whose airy toils are past, Gay valentines, all ardent flames, Trifles that have borne their part In girlish hopes and fears and shames, The record of a maiden heart Now learning fairer, truer spells, Hearing, like a blithe refrain, The silver sound of bridal bells In the falling summer rain. Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, Four women, taught by weal and woe To love and labor in their prime. Four sisters, parted for an hour, None lost, one only gone before, Made by love's immortal power, Nearest and dearest evermore. Oh, when these hidden stores of ours Lie open to the Father's sight, May they be rich in golden hours, Deeds that show fairer for the light, Lives whose brave music long shall ring, Like a spirit-stirring strain, Souls that shall gladly soar and sing In the long sunshine after rain
Hannah Lillith Assadi
Her father kneels and unclasps the urn. Above the waves she falls graceful as snow, my sister, my Sonora.
sometimes you need to make a mess.
She watched as her sister appeared at the kitchen door and, as always, was struck by her beauty; while she was blonde and fair-skinned, Julia was dark and exotic. Her thick mane of mahogany hair framed her fine-featured face, the weight she had recently lost only serving to highlight her luminous, almond-shaped, amber eyes and high cheekbones.
A sister is a dearest friend, a closest enemy, and an angel at the time of need.
I thought of Emily's legs hanging down as Mother carried her. I thought about the empty look on her face as Mother hugged her. I thought about never being able to play in the forest alone, or make a friend, or spend more than a few minutes by myself. I thought about not having even the privacy of my own bed at night. I thought, for the first time in a long time, about how those things had made me feel, when Mother slept with me. But to Lilith I said, "She doesn't know how good she's got it," and for a moment she and I were united once more in our disdain for our little sister, our parent's favorite, who couldn't understand how lucky she was.
My Keeper's house. Right there. Brown shingles, dark red shutters, yellow-and-black police tape wrapped around the massive tree trunks. The attic window looks out over the yard and the world narrows until that attic window is the only thing I can see.
At her words, words of forgiveness from Rose, an honest and just woman, something broke inside of Wince. His tears began to flow. Age seemed to drift from his face like misty ghosts from a morning field. Katie lifted his chin and, holding back her own tears, looked into his eyes. "Thank you, Wince." Eve placed her free hand on his shoulder. "May we hold her now?" Wince nodded and gently released the baby into the waiting arms of her sisters. "You did the right thing, Wince." Rose gave Wince a hug. "And you can help us bury her after Wilson and the Tar Ponds City Police see if they can find anybody to lay charges against after all this time.
She'd come running up the driveway and into the kitchen, bringing the spring morning behind her like a trail of hope.
First job:Be older sister Second job:Cope with first job Third job:Get annoyed with jobs.
My friend Bailey is looking at me with tears in her eyes and a smile of pure joy. She sees me, the real me, not the broken little bird that my mother sees, or the Ambassador of Hope that my father sees, or the girl who was stupid enough to walk off with a stranger and ruin everyone's lives that my sister sees. Bailey sees me as I want to be: a normal, non-newsworthy, non-broken, non-victimized sixteen-year-old girl.
The only thing that gave me comfort in the attic was thinking about my family. Now I'm home, but it's not the home I imagined. Not the family I imagined. I'd convinced myself that they'd continued on with their happy, carefree lives without me, that they were doing it double, because I couldn't do it at all. I was wrong.
My mother makes up for all shortcomings because she birthed Ginnie. I might not have loads of friends, but Ginnie is enough. More than enough.
I lean against my sister's shoulder. "I thought lightning wasn't supposed to strike in the same place twice." "Sure it does," Izzy tells me. "But only if you're too dumb to move.
Livia called out, "Slutenstien! I’m home." "I’m up here, cock dribble,” Kyle replied.
What can I tell you about the alchemy of twins? Twins are two bodies that dance to each other’s joy. Two minds that drown in each other’s despair. Two spirits that fly with each other’s love. Twins are two separate beings conjoined at the heart!