I felt like an animal, and animals don’t know sin, do they?

You know how the tightrope guy at the circus wants everyone to believe his act is an art, but deep down you can see that he's really just hoping he makes it all the way across?

A sister is a dearest friend, a closest enemy, and an angel at the time of need.

Love is the sister to Truth, but they differ in two ways. You must go to Truth to find her. She will never come looking for you. However, you are never to go looking for her sister Love. Love will find you in your own divine timing, when you are ready for her. So don't look, she will come. She always does.

Never hold resentments for the person who tells you what you need to hear; count them among your truest, most caring, and valuable friends.

The bittersweet about truth is that nothing could be more hurtful, yet nothing could be more helpful.

Everyone has always said I look like Bailey, but I don't.I have grey eyes to her green,an oval face to her heart-shaped one,I'm shorter, scrawnier, paler, flatter, plainer, tamer.All we shared is a madhouse of curlsthat I imprison in a ponytailwhile she let hers ravelike madnessaround her head.I don't sing in my sleepor eat the petals off flowersor run into the rain instead of out of it.I'm the unplugged-in one,the side-kick sister,tucked into a corner of her shadow.Boys followed her everywhere;they filled the booths at the restaurant where she waitressed,herded around her at the river.One day, I saw a boy come up behind herand pull a strand of her long hairI understood this-I felt the same way.In photographs of us together,she is always looking at the camera,and I am always looking at her.

For a moment amongst the crowd, I saw you. I've since found out it's common for people separated from someone they love to keep seeing that loved one amongst strangers; something to do with recognition units in our brain being too heated and too easily triggered. This cruel trick of the mind lasted only a few moments, but was long enough to feel with physical force how much I needed you.

He said, "Were he only like his sister—what a difference that would make! For there never was such a sweet and gentle lady! I hear her footsteps, as she goes about the world. I hear the swish-swish-swish of her silken gown and the jingle-jangle of the silver chain about her neck. Her smile is full of comfort and her eyes are kind and happy! How I long to see her!" "Who, sir?" asked Paramore, puzzled. "Why, his sister, John. His sister.

Some of us can live without a society but not without a family.

In united families, they might sleep with half filled stomach but no one sleeps with empty stomach.

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

In your name, the family name is at last because it's the family name that lasts.

Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house. Those outside can watch you if they want, but you need not see them. You simply say, "Here are the perimeters of our attention. If you prowl around under the windows till the crickets go silent, we will pull the shades. If you wish us to suffer your envious curiosity, you must permit us not to notice it." Anyone with one solid human bond is that smug, and it is the smugness as much as the comfort and safety that lonely people covet and admire.

Remind me to thank God I don’t have a sister.”Caine eyed him critically. He was a filthy heap of blood and soot and sand stuck to the gun oil on his face. “Yeah,” without much enthusiasm. “I’ll thank Him for ya.

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 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.

What can I tell you about the alchemy of twins?Twins are two bodies that dance to each other’s joy.Two minds that drownin each other’s despair.Two spirits that flywith each other’s love.Twins are two separate beingsconjoined at the heart!

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?

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.

I had crossed fifty years of my life, and come across uncountable females as son, husband, father, friend in my life. Coming across several women I carefully studied most of them, and feels that I got master knowing female. But every time when my heart comes across to a female, my all knowledge on female goes to a vain. What they want? , What are they looking for? When their mind changes? When their priority changes? No one knows, in a minute they use to change decisions, if someone ask, they says it’s a little thing. They never think, little things makes big or if they can’t stick on little things how they can stand in important decisions. They never show they are weak, but every time they are compromising themselves. It’s their big heart but impacting every around. They always think they can do anything by doing nothing.

She was few inches taller than him and when for the first time her promising eyes met with his, he knew it would be more than friendship. He was too young to name that feeling then. But love...above all relationships knows no age.

Just always remember to listen to your heart’s song…it will keep you alive

It's a commonly expressed and rather nice, romantic notion that we are all "sisters" and "brot

We didn’t want to admit it then, but we were friends. Best friends.

The only reason that some people aren’t ashamed of their parents and/or siblings is because they know that we know that they did not choose them.

I remember our childhood dayswhen life was easyand math problems hard.Mom would help us with our homeworkand dad was not at home but at work.After our chores, we’d go to the old fort museum with clips in our hair and pure joy in our hearts.You, sister, wore the bangles thatyou, brother, got as a prize from the Dentist.“Why the bangles?” the Dentist asked, surprised, for boys picked the stickers of cars instead.“They’re for my sisters,” you said.Mom would treat us to a bottle of Coke,a few sips each. Then,we’d buy the sweet smelling bread from the same white vanand hand-in-hand,we’d walk to our small flat above the restaurant.I remember our childhood days.Do you remember them too?

I know my sister like I know my own mind, you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind.

Sister?” Jessie Kay scowled. “Do I really look like his sister? I clearly come from grade-A stock while his ancestors made a few poor choices along the way.

Mandy was thinking back to when she was five years old, when she, her parents and Jud went outside before Christmas and had a snowball fight with the gray snow of Sydney Mines. “This is a wicked blast,” Jud would say, and Mandy would snap photos with a 35mm disposable film camera, photos she wished very much she could step into sometimes.

Speak gently to young women as you would to your sisters

Soul SisterEvoking all my inner goodnesswith bastions of timeI cradle your heartsisterly into mine...

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

In the beginning we start with roses. The king’s flower right? Only they wilt in less than a day, especially when exposed to the elements. But Carnations? Oh, what a beautiful flower. They come in every color. True, some are painted, but that doesn’t mean they are less beautiful, and they never wilt.

People usualy use "move on" when their heart broke because of love. Most don't understand when father, mother, sister or brother has died, you might have needed more strength to move on. It was like living with no air.

She once told me of a night that fumed with escapes and was filled with bedsides reeking of ecstasy; she told me the stars cast not judgments, but blessings, knowing full well the disastrous outcomes of the deeds they cradled with the strings of their young hearts. She’d inhaled the night itself, those around her doing the same, and so all become one. No disharmony. No discordance. Nothing to shatter the cause; nothing to unearth the beauty. So as we together ascended that front porch, allowing the glow behind the blown-out windows and the odious steams plunder us from through the cracks...time forgot to distill us, and our steps became as silver as glass. I could no longer deny the boiling words of my blood: tonight would be the beginning of a very long road indeed.

And the kids?""Quincy, nothing. All she wants to do is look for Saturn's rings and bring home every creature from the pound. Nelson, though, he's..." She looked at Nicholas. "He's like you. Gifted, but ignorant."Nicholas bristled, "I'm not ignorant.""You are about magic.""That's because I don't believe in magic.""Nicholas," She stopped, hands on hips, waiting until he turned around. "You're haunted. You see the dead. How can you not believe in magic?

A friend is the wax that keeps the flame lit, an enemy is the wind that blows it out.

I don't feel the need to explain my actions to her. I don't clarify, I don't doubt, I don't worry. I don't tell her everything, not anymore, but I tell her more than anyone else, by far. I tell her as much as I can.

I don't know what she is now. A stranger, mostly. It's as if she has become a part of a different world, one that doesn't include me anymore....

Like Mum and that bastard.” “You mean Da?”“Call him what you like.

Coming back last time to the house she grew up in, Isabel had been reminded of the darkness that had descended with her brothers' deaths, how loss had leaked all over her mother's life like a stain. As a fourteen-year-old, Isabel had searched the dictionary. She knew that if a wife lost a husband, there was a whole new word to describe who she was: she was now a widow. A husband became a widower. But if a parent loss a child, there was no special label for their grief. They were still just a mother or a father, even if they no longer had a son or daughter. That seemed odd. As to her own status, she wondered whether she was still technically a sister, now that her adored brothers had died.

The gastliness of nothing. Because I was nobody's sister now.

...grief is loved turned into an eternal missing. ...It can't be contained in hours or days or minutes.

A woman is a mother, daughter, and sister of every man; how she could be wrong?

Women are lot more stronger then men, not just mentally but even physically, not only do they look beautiful in any form, but are also blessed with there caring nature which they have by birth.. What do men need more then this to respect a women??? Handling a family is equivalent to handling a big corporate office.. N she does it very well..Respect her beauty by praising it n don't dis-respect it by passing dirty comments.. Some mentally ill men RAPE a women, but dis-respect every women including there mother n sisters with this act... and cause of such mentally ill men, every man is ashamed of being a Male/Man..

No matter how many years passed or how much responsibility each assumed, they still managed to bicker like bitchy teenagers on a regular basis. In some way, though, each found it comforting; it reminded them how close they really were: Acquaintances were always on their best behavior, but sisters loved each other enough to say anything.

She said, "Right now, while we have this time, I'm not going to do any of that other stuff. I'm going to seize this moment and simply enjoy being with Jesus while I can." Mary made a deliberate choice. She wasn't being lazy and using company as an excuse to get out of helping her sister with chores. She was choosing to focus on what mattered the most.

I'm thinking about the cat dying, Dulcie and her knife against my throat, Mrs Irvin and her St Thomas bone... But never my sister. A brother rarely thinks about his sister.

Will the veiled sister pray for Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee, Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray For children at the gate Who will not go away and cannot pray: Pray for those who chose and oppose

He would know a number of grown women in his life who did not possess even a small portion of the grace his middle sister owned at the age of fourteen.

She was quit a handsome man, my sister.

I couldn't bear the thought of Alex looking at me like I was a freak. It was bad enough that the looked at me as Jack's sister.

Caress me sister wind and stop this hate.

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

For your information, Lester, there are at least five wonderful parts of the female body that can be viewed by the owner only with a hand mirror.

For your information, Lester, there are at least five wonderful parts of the female body that can be viewed by the owner only with a hand mirror.'And as they stared after me, I went regally back down the hallway and up the stairs to Dad's room.

I was so mad, I reached into the drawer for her fake sushi eraser and put it in my pocket. Serves her right for being such a big, fat, Eggo-scarfing liar.

Oh, gods. Not the flying!”“I heard you mounted my sister well enough.”“I want you never to make that statement again.

A woman without her sister is like a bird without her wings.

Think twice before you pull your trouser and rape a woman; she may be your mother, sister or friend, and you know the consequences that follows.

Know the true definition of yourself. That is essential.Then, when you know your own definition, flee from it.

I was tired of her getting away with being so young.

In a way, I was incrediibly proud of her (not that I had any intention of letting it show while I was beating the crap out of her).

Pride adversely affects all our relationships—our relationship with God and His servants, between husband and wife, parent and child, employer and employee, teacher and student, and all mankind. Our degree of pride determines how we treat our God and our brothers and sisters. Christ wants to lift us to where He is. Do we desire to do the same for others?

My sister is there with, probably, the most dangerous people on this city! You have a little sister?”“No.”“Then you don’t have any right to tell me what I suposse to sacrifice if it’s for my sister’s sake!”“Owen...”“She’s the only younger sibling I have. If something happens to her, I don’t see any reason why should I keep alive on this freaking Earth!

I must have cried myself out. The tears stopped falling and I breathed in through my nose. I stood up and looked down at my baby sister lying there. I kissed my fingertips and touched her forehead. "Goodbye, brat," I whispered. "Stop calling me brat."Caelyn's eyes opened. Her irises were blood red. She gave me an impish smile and bared her fangs. Little sisters suck...

That was the thing about best friends. Like sisters and mothers, they could piss you off and make you cry and break your heart, but in the end, when the chips were down, they were there, making you laugh even in your darkest hours.

She has the care of a mother, the love of a sister, a prostitute in bed. Who is she?

Lorcan rubbed his head. “Am I asking too much to want the little bitch dead? Am I?” It seemed Hefaidd-Hen learned long ago not to answer certain questions. “All I want is for her to suffer a painful, horrifying death. And for her head to be on a spike in front of my castle. That’s all I want.

My sister is running away to get lost, but I am running away because I want to find something. And my parents love me so much that they want to help me. Yeah, Dad is a drunk and Mom is an ex-drunk, but they don't want their kids to be drunks.

At this point, none of us are sure why we fight. We’re sisters. We need no good reason to fight, even though we have plenty of them.

I lead Paco through the house. We pass Shelley in the family room looking at some magazine. "Shelley, this is Paco. He's Alex's friend. Paco, this is my sister, Shelley."At the mention of Alex's name, Shelley gives a happy squeal."Hey, Shelley," Paco says.Shelley smiles wide."Shell-bell, I need you to do me a favor." Shelley bobs her head in response as I whisper, "I need you to keep Mom occupied while I talk to Paco."Shelley grins, and I know my sister will come through for me.

FRIENDOnly when you have walked with me through the valley of hardship...When you have fought beside me against an evil foe...When you have cried with me through a painful heartache...When you have laughed with me at life joyous moments...When you have held my hand in silent sorrow at my loss...When you have trusted me in spite of your doubts,,,When you have believed in me when I lacked confidence to believe in my self...When you have defended my honor against lying tongues...When you have prayed for me when I was temped to go wrong...When you have stood with me as others walked away...Then and only then can you call me friend. For then you truly know ME. Then you will have paid the price of sisterhood/brotherhood. Then you will have forged a bond that will transcend time and live beyond life. Then you will truly be called a FRIEND who sticks closer than a brother...© 2013 From the book Meditations From my Garden by Stella Payton

... on the lawn one late summer day, her pale hair tangled because she'd cry if anyone tried to brush it, spinning around and around until she got so dizzy she fell in a pile of bare feet and dandelions and sundress.

Awkward.That's exactly how it was when we walked over to our sister and stood on each side of her, looking at her and feeling things and not knowing what to do.

I'll never let it happen. I'll do everything in my power to keep my sister at home."I don't want to have a civilized discussion. My parents want to send my sister to a facility behind my back and my head feels like it's about to split open. Leave me alone, okay?"Something is sticking out of my pocket. It's Alex's bandanna. Isabel isn't a friend, yet she helped me. And Alex, a boy who cared about me last night more than my own boyfriend did, acted as my hero and is urging me to be real. Do I even know how to be real?I clutch the bandanna to my chest.And I allow myself to cry.

Autumn stomps around outside the houselike an annoying little sister, tappingon all the shutters, kicking up the pilesof leaves you rake, pretending to howllike a wolf. But I'm glad she's here,so we can cuss at Summer together,pretending we don't even remember her name.

However hard and however long we love someone who has died, they can never love us back. At least that is how it feels...

Can I sleep with you?" asked Oz. "Kinda scary in my room. Pretty sure I saw a troll in the corner." Lou said, "Get up here." Oz climbed next to her. Oz suddenly looked troubled. "When you get married, who am I going to come get in bed with when I'm scared, Lou?" "One day you're gonna get bigger than me, then I'm going to be running to you when I get scared." "How do you know that?" "Because that's the deal God makes between big sisters and their little brothers.

I think I know what he is REALLY doing in there... and thinking about ME while doing it." (continuing) "But when he thinks of me, he thinks: sister! Think: Byblis! BYBLIS! I don't think of him as my brother, I think of him as CAUNUS!