Best 3729 quotes in «brother quotes» category

Starting a business with brother either ends business or ends brotherhood.

Take all men as your brothers; all women as your sisters; and all children as your sons and daughters.

The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.

The answer to the question ‘How many children do you have?’ and the one to the question ‘How many children are you raising?’ are not identical in all cases: some men are not taking care of their own children, some are knowingly or unknowingly raising other men’s children, and some do not even know that they each have a child, another child, or other children.

The fact that you have just buried your parent or parents and/or sibling or siblings does not make you less likely to die today.

The missing remained missing and the portraits couldn't change that. But when Akhmed slid the finished portrait across the desk and the family saw the shape of that beloved nose, the air would flee the room, replaced by the miracle of recognition as mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, and cousin found in that nose the son, brother, nephew, and cousin that had been, would have been, could have been, and they might race after the possibility like cartoon characters dashing off a cliff, held by the certainty of the road until they looked down -- and plummeted is the word used by the youngest brother who, at the age of sixteen, is tired of being the youngest and hopes his older brother will return for many reasons, not least so he will marry and have a child and the youngest brother will no longer be youngest; that youngest brother, the one who has nothing to say about the nose because he remembers his older brother's nose and doesn't need the nose to mean what his parents need it to mean, is the one who six months later would be disappeared in the back of a truck, as his older brother was, who would know the Landfill through his blindfold and gag by the rich scent of clay, as his older brother had known, whose fingers would be wound with the electrical wires that had welded to his older brother's bones, who would stand above a mass grave his brother had dug and would fall in it as his older brother had, though taking six more minutes and four more bullets to die, would be buried an arm's length of dirt above his brother and whose bones would find over time those of his older brother, and so, at that indeterminate point in the future, answer his mother's prayer that her boys find each other, wherever they go; that younger brother would have a smile on his face and the silliest thought in his skull a minute before the first bullet would break it, thinking of how that day six months earlier, when they all went to have his older brother's portrait made, he should have had his made, too, because now his parents would have to make another trip, and he hoped they would, hoped they would because even if he knew his older brother's nose, he hadn't been prepared to see it, and seeing that nose, there, on the page, the density of loss it engendered, the unbelievable ache of loving and not having surrounded him, strong enough to toss him, as his brother had, into the summer lake, but there was nothing but air, and he'd believed that plummet was as close as they would ever come again, and with the first gunshot one brother fell within arms' reach of the other, and with the fifth shot the blindfold dissolved and the light it blocked became forever, and on the kitchen wall of his parents' house his portrait hangs within arm's reach of his older brother's, and his mother spends whole afternoons staring at them, praying that they find each other, wherever they go.

There are three impossibilities in life: God cannot lie, God cannot change and finally, I cannot be a poor man.

There’s something in my voice that brings him back to me, overrides his buzz. ‘Gaby’—all traces of playfulness have gone—‘if anything ever happens to me, you’ll be fine. You’re strong enough to look after yourself. I hate to admit it, but you don’t need me. Never did.’ A smile. ‘But listen, nothing is going to happen today. It’s all good.’ ‘Jude, we’re high enough up to get a nose bleed.’ ‘So come with me.’ I blink. ‘Fuck off.’ ‘I mean it. We can do this together.’ He raises his eyebrows at the girl who checked his harness. She nods. I risk looking over the side. There’s a river far beneath us. So far down we can’t hear it. My entire body goes numb. ‘You’ve got about thirty seconds and then I’m going on my own.’ What a choice: watch my brother jump out of this car or put aside my own fear and go with him. Share the recklessness. Why didn’t we go to Paris? We’d be arguing over where to buy cheese right now. Adrenaline begins to burn through me. ‘Screw it.’ Jude breaks into a wide smile. ‘Seriously?’ I glance at the yawning space beneath us. ‘Hurry up before I change my mind.

The thing you never want your sister to be," my brother informed me, "is an unidentified woman on the news. Bad things happen to unidentified women.

The world is full of unrequited love,' I said finally. 'You and Patrick having problems?' Dad said, reaching around to get the butter out of the fridge. 'No, I was just wondering what you would say if I was a lesbian.' 'Come again?' said Lester. 'I'm having a hard time following this conversation.

The world has grown too large for one army of the nation, my brother. You will ride where I tell you to ride, conquer where I tell you to conquer. The world is yours, if you can put aside the base part of you that tells you to rule it all. That you may not have. Now give me an answer and your oath. Your word is iron, brother, and I will take it. Or I can just kill you now.

To the loyal and to the blood-lovers, in the good families and in the fiery dynasties, life is family and family is life. It is the same people who give advice and their vices to live well who turn out to be the ones who give resource and reason to live long.

This pretty much summed up how things worked in my family. I preferred talk to action. My sister preferred action to thinking. And my father preferred to admire some far-off spot on the horizon that no one else could see.

Vote for Toby. Vote for Toby. Hey, baby. How you doin'?" Slight pause. "Vote for Toby.

We can’t go through life assuming the people around us understand what’s going on in our minds. We have to have those open and honest discussions. We have to communicate.

Well, good afternoon, sunshine. How are you feeling?" "Like something the cat dragged in, then dragged back outside to leave in the rain, and mud, then the lightning hit it, and burned it, and the cat came back to tear it into pieces, before burying it.

Were you close?" She nodded. "Losing our parents at a young age drew us together." Lucien tensed, scanning her face. She looked away. "He lingered for three weeks before he died. He was twenty-nine." "I'm sorry," he whispered. She gazed at him for a long moment as though sizing him up while the wind riffled through their hair and clothes. Then she smiled wryly. "Don't be. If Phillip were alive, he would have challenged you to a duel and shot you dead for all of this." "Ah," he said in chagrin as she turned away with a chiding smile and walked on.

What are you doing?" my mom asked. One side of her mouth curled up. "I'm trying to move that cup." My parents laughed. I concentrated on the coffee cup, but it didn't budge. "I guess I'll have to work on this telekinesis thing. It'll come in handy when Ben is hogging the TV remote and forcing me to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for the fifty-millionth time.

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!

What do you know about somebody not being good enough for somebody else? And since when did you care whether Corinthians stood up or fell down? You've been laughing at us all your life. Corinthians. Mama. Me. Using us, ordering us, and judging us: how we cook your food; how we keep your house. But now, all of a sudden, you have Corinthians' welfare at heart and break her up from a man you don't approve of. Who are you to approve or disapprove anybody or anything? I was breathing air in the world thirteen years before your lungs were even formed. Corinthians, twelve. . . . but now you know what's best for the very woman who wiped the dribble from your chin because you were too young to know how to spit. Our girlhood was spent like a found nickel on you. When you slept, we were quiet; when you were hungry, we cooked; when you wanted to play, we entertained you; and when you got grown enough to know the difference between a woman and a two-toned Ford, everything in this house stopped for you. You have yet to . . . move a fleck of your dirt from one place to another. And to this day, you have never asked one of us if we were tired, or sad, or wanted a cup of coffee. . . . Where do you get the RIGHT to decide our lives? . . . I'll tell you where. From that hog's gut that hangs down between your legs. . . . I didn't go to college because of him. Because I was afraid of what he might do to Mama. You think because you hit him once that we all believe you were protecting her. Taking her side. It's a lie. You were taking over, letting us know you had the right to tell her and all of us what to do. . . . I don't make roses anymore, and you have pissed your last in this house.

What is it you do for your family? Aside from trying to put it in your sister, I mean?

When did the very first case of racism even occur? When did such blind hatred devour the souls of men and make them turn on their own brothers and sisters? What ever taught them that it was normal to be such monsters?

When silence greeted her question, she looked at Caine—for that was how he saw himself in that moment and in all the moments after: his brother’s murderer.

When you are a grown up your brothers become your neighbors and your unconditional brotherhood become your conditional neighborhood.

We couldn’t have done it without somebody else! We couldn’t have won this race or got the Fleece or saved Grover or anything! We owe our lives to Tyson, Percy’s…’ ‘Brother!’ I said, loud enough for everybody to hear. ‘Tyson, my baby brother.’ Tyson blushed. The crowd cheered. Annabeth planted a kiss on my cheek.

When you feel angry or frustrated at a brother for using a particular defense -- being controlling or whatever it is -- you are failing to forgive yourself for the very same attempt; you still believe that the defense has a reality. You are seeing it out there but when you start to pull it back to your mind, you start to see the control in yourself. The guilt from transferring it from one seeming person/body to another seeming person/body is enormous. Instead of blaming your brother, the blame gets turned onto your own seeming body, but it is still the same error. We have to see that I am mind; this identity that I took off of my brother but still saw in myself is also just a construct in my mind. Otherwise, what good is the transfer?

who knows you better than your own brother?

You and your brother have had moments. Don'tcha think the collar's a bit much?" I could imagine Jessie hogtied with whatever was at hand by his big bad sis.

You ball up your fist each time you hear about an unfound injustice in the world. That makes me your brother.

You can only be your brother's keeper if he allows you

You can take the Indian out of the family, but you cannot take the family out of the Indian.

You don't get to be a keeper of the faith without being a keeper of your brother.

Your father doesn't like me," Charley said to Wesley later when Wesley had gotten them away from the crowd. "Father doesn't seem to like anyone," Wesley said. "Don't let it worry you." "But you brought me to his house. I don't like to be in the home of someone who doesn't like me." "But my brother Skylar claims it is his home, and I believe that Skylar does like you," Wesley said. "He's Indian like you." "Yes. We are both Cherokees. What is Skylar's clan?" "I believe I've heard him say that it's Wolf." "Then we are related. I'm Wolf clan." "That's amazing, Charley. So you and my brother are related. Does that make us related too?" "I don't think so, Wesley, because the relationship is through our mothers." "Well, that's too bad. I would like to be your brother.

Your relationship with your brother will be, in many ways, the most complex and bewildering of all the interpersonal connections you will form. An older brother is both authority and peer, friend and bitter enemy, partner and rival, and will play these contradictory roles to varying degrees throughout your life. At this point the rivalry is most prominent, owing to the difference in age and the resentment your brother feels toward you monopolizing your mother's attention. Try to remember, in the face of the poor treatment you receive at his hands, that more than a pure desire to cause you harm or pain, this is an effort on his part to win back some of that attention, even if it's only through being scolded and punished.

A brotherhood of venerable trees.

A Black Belt under the Nogueira Brothers is like saying I got a free toy in my happy meal

A brother's sufferings claim a brother's pity.

A brother with small earnings may ask,''Should I also give? My earning are already so small that my family can barely make ends meet.'' My reply is, ''Have you ever considered that the very reason your earnings remain so small may be because you spend everything on yourself? If God gave you more, you would only use it to increase your own comfort instead of looking to see who is sick or who has no work at all that you might help them.

Above all, always see Jesus in every person, and consequently treat each one not only as an equal and as a brother or sister, but also with great humility, respect and selfless generosity.

A Brother may not be a Friend, but a Friend will always be a Brother.

A brother who recognizes that we have shortcomings, we, in the struggle, have faults, and that he wanted to reconcile differences.

Accuracy is twin brother to honesty, and inaccuracy to dishonesty.

Accuracy is the twin brother of honesty; inaccuracy is a near kin to falsehood.

A father may turn his back on his child, brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, wives their husbands. But a mother's love endures through all; in good repute, in bad repute, in the face of the world's condemnation, a mother still loves on, and still hopes that her child may turn from his evil ways, and repent; still she remembers the infant smiles that once filled her bosom with rapture, the merry laugh, the joyful shout of his childhood, the opening promise of his youth; and she can never be brought to think him all unworthy.

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress; A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!

Afghanistan will be a brother of Pakistan. Afghanistan will never betray a brother

Afghans excel at fighting Afghans. This is what Afghans do, even when they are not being invaded by foreign powers. They fight each other, tribe against tribe, brother against brother, half-brother against half-brother, cousin against cousin, uncle against nephew, father against son.

According to the three missed calls from her mother—who thought Madison had been kidnapped in the big, bad city and was now being held for an ungodly sum of money—the four text messages from her brother wondering if she knew how to navigate the beltway—because apparently little sisters couldn’t drive—and the voice mail from her father warning there was a problem with the reservations, she was late for brunch.

A certain administration which I won't call by name took the arts out of the schools, and that left the brothers out on the street with nothing, so they went to the turntables and started rhyming. Then they had a way to express themselves, and that's the birth of hip-hop.

A child in its greed for love does not enjoy having to share the affection of its parents with its brothers and sisters; and it notices that the whole of their affection is lavished upon it once more whenever it arouses their anxiety by falling ill. It has now discovered a means of enticing out its parents' love and will make use of that means as soon as it has the necessary psychical material at its disposal for producing an illness.