Best 103 quotes in «sisterhood quotes» category

Goddess of immemorable cloudy veils, reveal your magickal powers so we may re-attune our psyches to your multi-dimensional realities and thereby draw your power to heal this worldly habitat and return it to the provocative Sisterhood of Your Milky Way.

GO SISTER CHILDREN MUST ALWAYS BE KEPT SAFE.

He's an egotistical dickhead who's going to chew you up and spit you out; and you have a really awful history of falling for assholes that you ought to run screaming from; and I don't feel like sitting around listening to you try to convince yourself you don't still feel something for Campbell Alexander when, in fact, you've spent the past fifteen years trying to fill in the hole he made inside you.

Hunter's stew is also known as hunter's pot or perpetual stew. It is made in a large pot, and the ingredients are anything you can find. The idea is that it is never finished, never emptied all the way- instead it is topped up perpetually. It is a stew with an unending cycle. It is a stew that can last for years. It dates back to medieval Poland, first made in cauldrons no one bothered to empty or wash. It began with the simmering of game meat- pigeon, hare, hen, pheasant, rabbit- just anything you could get your hands on. It would then be supplemented with foraged vegetables, seasoned with wild herbs. Sometimes spices or even wine would be added. Then, as time went by, additional food scraps and leftovers were thrown in- recently harvested produce, stale hunks of bread, newly slaughtered meat, or beans dried for the winter months. It would exist in perpetuity, always the same, always new. Traditionally the stew has spicy, savory, and sour notes. An element of sourness is absolutely necessary to cut through the rich and intense flavor. It is said to improve with age.

I believe that when a woman is given the chance to come to the defense of another woman, that is an opportunity that she should take in behalf of not only that woman; but in behalf of herself and all other women, everywhere. Men don't have low opinions of women because women are sluts and whores; but men have low opinions of women because they see how women compete with one another, pull one another down in order to rise above and backbite one another endlessly. There are men who have low opinions of women because of how women treat other women. They see that and they think, "What kind of a species can do that to their own species?" So if you really want the guy, why not get him by showing him what a true friend you are to your girlfriends? Or by showing him how happy you are for the good fortune of another woman and how much you admire her? And if he doesn't appreciate that then he doesn't deserve you! I know we've got a long, long way to go before we change the way our gender treats one another; but it's got to start somewhere and I suggest we start right now.

I believe that women ought to be more proactive about making choices in life. I think that I am not happy about seeing women take the passenger's seat and playing the victim game all too often. If you know a guy is engaged, don't kiss him! There is another woman in the situation whom you are hurting and that other woman could have very well been you, your sister, your mother! If someone is committed, don't sleep with him! There is another woman in the picture that is going to get hurt and that other woman is your sister, just because she is a woman too! This is the kind of proactive I want to see in women, everywhere. We're not victims of the choices that we make; we made those choices! Is another woman doing good? More successful? Happier? Good for her. Because she is your sister and she could very well be you. Let's respect the relationships, the personal paths, the doors and the walkways of our fellow women and let us wish one another the utmost happiness. Because this is the only way up and out.

I do what I do because I am who I am. Don't make me over.

I felt like I was being carried over the threshold of a sisterhood of loss. I knew I was not walking alone, and that eventually I would bob back up to the surface of the deep, because the women around me showed me what healing looks like.

How the hell do you sum up your sister in three minutes? She's your twin and your polar opposite. She's your constant companion and your competition. She's your best friend and the biggest bitch in the world. She's everything you wish you could be and everything you wish you weren't.

I know you don't want to be me. But I'd hate for you to ever feel like you're in my shadow. You're not and you never will be. You are awesome, and there is some kind of amazing future waiting for you.

In the dark, my sister glowed, but in the dark, I was the dark itself. Blanca, bright and fair Blanca, was the moon and all its stars. I was just her background to shimmer against.

It felt like betrayal, finding joy even in little things when Willow was in danger.

It’s because our friendships – female friendships are just a hop to our sisterhood, and sisterhood can be a very powerful force, to give the world … the things that humans desperately need

It’s the wide variation of women in our little shared petri dish that makes our lives never boring. Really all that we have in common is we each fell in love with a dude in uniform. The rest of it is a wild card. . . . Each of us trying to get through the day, the deployment, and the time in between.

It was not just friendship that we are attached to each other, it was sisterhood that made that bonding between us, but now that love doesn't exist anymore as people changes with time- that's reality.

I'm proud of her; she's proud of me. There is no competition animosity, envy, or jealousy. We're just secure, confident women doing our thing while supporting each other. I call that a SiSTARship and it is the essence of a Smart Woman Achieving Greatness. (SWAG)

My fear of being real, of being seen, paralyzes me into silence. I crave the touch and the connection, but I’m not always brave enough to open my hand and reach out. This is the great challenge: to be seen, accepted, and loved, I must first reveal, offer, and surrender.

My sister and I are so close that we finish each other’s sentences and often wonder who’s memories belong to whom.

No matter where we come from, there is one language we can all speak and understand from birth, the language of the heart, love.

Oh! Dione of Opalescent Skin Ethereal. Your oospheric containment disperses argentous streams of velvety rays that cradle recesses of soul in gossamer of beatific visions.La Luna! Your enigmatic smile. Your watery countenance stirs the imagination and bestows inspiration on those receptive to Your Sacred Gifts.

Oh, my love,' she said. 'What do the only children do?' 'We'll never have to know.

Imagine: you could say nothing, do nothing, eat nothing, touch nothing, love nothing without the other knowing.

Once upon a time, a sister made a vow she didn't know how to break, and it broke her instead. Once upon a time, a girl did the impossible, but she did it just a little too late.

No matter what, they always had each other. How did people get through life without sisters?

She blames herself. I hurt from knowing that I hurt her. Even when we know all of these other people are to blame. My friends. The media. Not her. Not me. I can’t help myself. I continue the cycle and I say, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Lily is quiet for a moment before she says, “I’m tougher than you think. You just need to believe in me. You know, like a fairy.” I do believe in fairies. I do. I do. The jubilant chorus from Peter Pan fills my ears. I look up at her, tears in both our eyes. Is that how we end this? I trust that I can share my grief with her and that she won’t crumble beneath the pain? She nods to me like go on. I can handle it.

Our melanin will always make us marvelous... Just imagine what that sea of sisterhood would look like. Magic!

She craves men but women are her most abiding lovers. Her friends are her soul mates, all the love without the consumption of sex and romance, a different kind of intimacy. Women make love by admiring each other, studying and envying each other and mixing it all up in a pot of devotion.

Once we are made aware of the universality of our angsts and joys, we become one under the sky of humanity

Remember, my sister, even the light of a thousand splendid suns falls short of the majesty of the Creator. He will save us.

She'd cared for the memory as she'd cared for her collection of dolls--as if by keeping it untouched on a high shelf it could last forever. Had he held onto it for any time at all?

something about the phrase - something about how i have to be unlike the women i call sisters in order to be wanted makes me want to spit your tongue out

Sisters share a bond unlike any other – thornier, but also tender, full of possibility.

Sometimes that’s all you need my love – another woman’s faith in you.

Sometimes opposites attract, or so they say, but Paloma and Rocío were like arroz and mangú: they didn’t really mix well.

Storm Sister--a friend who sticks close when storms hit her friend's life.

The day arrived,when myriad teary rivers flow and the muted wind faintly died in his tears—an altar for the beloved one's departure,for sister-hood is no more,for her to adore!while pangs the beating world in a lamenting voice;their remembering loss of the 'one' they embrace most and when the crepuscule came like a phantom,the mournful,gathered birds swiftly flew in gloom.

Taken from the dedication in my debut novel Exactly 23 days. To honour all women on International Women's day. For women everywhere: When you know you are finally mended, spread the word, hold out your hand, share some love from your heart and some laughter from your soul and be there for a new member of the sisterhood who needs your help. Let's all help our sisters worldwide to stand tall and know, they can and they will recover, survive and thrive, to live the life they deserve. To all the sisters who reached out and held my hand in whatever way you could, who cried my tears with me, and laughter my laughter too, I thank every one of you. I survived.

The female warrior knows how to fight without violence. She knows when not to raise her sword, but instead hold up her heart. Her shield is not a defense against others but a shelter for all.

The power of sisterhood is not war-power. There have been and will be conflicts, but the Final cause causes no by conflict but by attraction.

There are so many things that we learn in our lives most of which we can't learn without seeing the hearts of others.

The placement of a perfect perfumed turd passive-aggressive zinger is equal to the flush of an orgasm. It is sublime.

This oath is the oath we all swear. Not to a god, or a master, or to the Ludu Achillea...but to our sisters who stand here with us. Our sisters. This is the oath that binds us all, one to one, all to all, so that we are no longer free. We belong to each other. We are bound to each other. In swearing to each other, we free ourselves from the outside world, from the world of men, from those who would seek to bind us to Fate and that which would make us slaves. We sacrifice our liberty so that, ultimately, we can be truly free.

True happiness comes from a sense of brotherhood and sisterhood, but not from hatred and division.

Under the mystichood ofNameless Bride, we grope in Her Sacred Darkness for plasmatic encounter, the fifth ionized state of matter. Our mundane sight of differentation and separation recedes into the magickal Abyss of Blackness where all is touch. We feel each other as tactile presences whose extended dimension stretches to the stars only to coalesce beyond galactic expanses in the white and worm-holes of Her ever spiraling Gown of Worlds beyond Worlds. Let us feel Her concrescence as we stroke each unique form in the unfathomable dimensions of Her perfect formfulness - ever-changing, ever-new, ever-variable in the rainbow myriads of infinite spasms of delight.

That afternoon was the first time I felt... I don't know how to describe it exactly. My head was in Dad's lap and all the happiness that I'd missed was being compressed into that moment. I looked up at him and I was no longer me. I was Mom, but not as I knew her. This wasn't her forcing her darkness on me, like a bag over my head. No, this was something else. I'd become Mom from many years ago. Dad felt it too, I could tell. Maybe it would have lasted longer if not for Edie, talking and talking, pressing and pressing. She wanted to take me back to the other mother. The one in the mental hospital who needed me brought to her, tied and quartered, like a sacrifice.

There is no place for secrets in sisterhood.

There's something different when a woman does you wrong. We're supposed to be here for each other!

They seem like a different race to me and I make sure never to get into disagreements with them, because any puny thing I say gets dashed on the rocks of their robust, shouty certainty.

We are all equal in the fact that we are all different. We are all the same in the fact that we will never be the same. We are united by the reality that all colours and all cultures are distinct & individual. We are harmonious in the reality that we are all held to this earth by the same gravity. We don't share blood, but we share the air that keeps us alive. I will not blind myself and say that my black brother is not different from me. I will not blind myself and say that my brown sister is not different from me. But my black brother is he as much as I am me. But my brown sister is she as much as I am me.

We are all spawned from the same great canvas yet we lose ourselves through the melding of its vistas