Quotes about Family

Oh, you dear good father! cried Mary, putting her hands round her father's neck, while he bent his head placidly, willing to be caressed. I wonder if any other girl thinks her father the best man in the world! Nonsense, child; you'll think your husband better. Impossible, said Mary, relapsing into her usual tone; husbands are an inferior class of men, who require keeping in order.

There, now, father, you won't work in it till it's all easy, said Eppie, and you and me can mark out the beds, and make holes and plant the roots. It'll be a deal livelier at the Stone-pits when we've got some flowers, for I always think the flowers can see us and know what we're talking about. And I'll have a bit o' rosemary, and bergamot, and thyme, because they're so sweet-smelling; but there's no lavender only in the gentlefolks' gardens, I think.

It's quite right the land should be ploughed and sowed, and the precious corn stored, and the things of this life cared for, and right that people should rejoice in their families, and provide for them, so that this is done in the fear of the Lord, and that they are not unmindful of the soul's wants while they are caring for the body.

The group I am moving towards is at Caleb Garth's breakfast-table in the large parlor where the maps and desk were: father, mother, and five of the children. Mary was just now at home waiting for a situation, while Christy, the boy next to her, was getting cheap learning and cheap fare in Scotland, having to his father's disappointment taken to books instead of that sacred calling business.

If you like to swallow him, for his sister's sake, you may; but I've no sauce that will make him go down.

Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and duty.

how was a man to be explained unless you at least knew somebody who knew his father and mother?

In the midst of life we are in death" — how the present moment is all we can call our own for works of mercy, of righteous dealing, and of family tenderness. All very old truths — but what we thought the oldest truth becomes the most startling to us in the week when we have looked on the dead face of one who has made a part of our own lives. For

Maggie actually forgot that she had any special cause of sadness this morning, as she stood on a chair to look at a remarkable series of pictures representing the Prodigal Son in the costume of Sir Charles Grandison, except that, as might have been expected from his defective moral character, he had not, like that accomplished hero, the taste and strength of mind to dispense with a wig.

But if she can marry blood, beauty, and bravery—the sooner the better.

Ah!" said the grocer, "I thought I knew his features. He takes after his mother's family; she was a Dodson. He's a fine, straight youth; what's he been brought up to?" "Oh! to turn up his nose at his father's customers, and be a fine gentleman,—not much else, I think.

Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them.