Best 103 quotes in «sisterhood quotes» category

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

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’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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

There is no place for secrets in sisterhood.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

We, the Sworn Sisterhood, do solemnly vow to take back Acadia from those who are responsible for the scourge of the dragon and the tempests. We will fight them with our hands and our weapons. We will fight them with the power of our conviction. We will face the enemy without fear. We will take the enemy down and bring the enemy to justice and there is nothing that can stand in our way.

We need to cultivate a sense of universal responsibility for one another and the planet we share. True happiness comes from a sense of brotherhood and sisterhood, but not from hatred and division.

We dropped our hands, both embarrassed by the sincerity of the moment. But I was learning, Sometimes you had to put it all out there, no matter how hard it felt to do so. When the people in your life were worth it, so was the risk.

When we were little, Scarlett and I were utterly convinced that we'd originally been one person in our mother's belly. We believed that somehow, half of us wanted to be born and half wanted to stay. So our heart had to be broken in two so that Scarlett could be born first, and then I finally braved the outside world a few years later. It made sense, in our pig-tailed heads--it explained why, when we ran through grass or danced or spun in circle long enough, we would lose track of who was who and it started to feel as if there were some organic, elegant link between us, our single heart holding the same tempo and pumping the same blood. That was before the attack, though. Now our hearts link only when we're hunting, when Scarlett looks at me with a sort of beautiful excitement that's more powerful than her scars and then tears after a Fenris as though her life depends on its death. I follow, always, because it's the only time when our hearts beat in perfect harmony, the only time when I'm certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are one person broken in two.

When I'm sad, one of my favorite things to do is reach out to someone and drop a tiny blessing in her lap, as if gently tipping a watering can over her sprouting seed. Today it was a woman who has been growing her passions into a business and I just wrote, Dear Sister, I love watching you bloom.

A ministering angel shall my sister be.

With every beat of my heart, I believe she thought keeping her secret was in everyone's best interest. She thought the secret would be buried with her, never to be revealed. She thought wrong.

Women instinctually know how to nourish each other, and just being with each other is restorative

you tell me i am not like most girls and learn to kiss me with your eyes closed 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 like i am supposed to be proud you picked me as if i should be relieved you think i am better than them

You are blood. You are sisters. No man can break that bond.

You Might Not Be A Wife Material, Neither Might You Be Worth Mothering Anyone's Child, According To PEOPLE. You Are However ENOUGH To Make God Leave His Throne And Come Down To Earth To Change Your Situation. You Are ENOUGH To Make Mary Virgin Again For Your Worth To Be Seen Not By The Naked Eye. You Are ENOUGH To Reverse The Curse Of Adam And Eve For God To Redeem You. You Are ENOUGH, My Sister, For Jesus To Be Crucified Again, Just For God To Refill Your Cup.

But whenever she thanks the givers for favors great and small, she thinks of the good little sister who gave her more than they all.