I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.
In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips.
When sisters stand shoulder to shoulder, who stands a chance against us?
The mildest, drowsiest sister has been known to turn tiger if her sibling is in trouble.
A sister is a forever friend.
I know some sisters who only see each other on Mother’s Day and some who will never speak again. But most are like my sister and me... linked by volatile love, best friends who make other best friends ever so slightly less best.
Sisterly love is, of all sentiments, the most abstract. Nature does not grant it any functions.
Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other.
Sweet is the voice of a sister in the season of sorrow, and wise is the counsel of those who love us.
When mom and dad don’t understand, a sister always will.
Elder sisters never can do younger ones justice!
A toast once heard: “To my big sister, who never found her second Easter egg until I’d found my first.”
A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.
To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.
The best thing about having a sister was that I always had a friend.
An older sister helps one remain half child, half woman.
An older sister is a friend and defender — a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights. And sorrows too.
There is no better friend than a sister. And there is no better sister than you.
Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk.
I don’t believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at.
A sibling may be the keeper of one’s identity, the only person with the keys to one’s unfettered, more fundamental self.
Our roots say we’re sisters, our hearts say we’re friends.
Our siblings push buttons that cast us in roles we felt sure we had let go of long ago — the baby, the peacekeeper, the caretaker, the avoider.... It doesn’t seem to matter how much time has elapsed or how far we’ve traveled.
Our siblings. They resemble us just enough to make all their differences confusing, and no matter what we choose to make of this, we are cast in relation to them our whole lives long.
Sibling relationships — and 80 percent of Americans have at least one — outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust.
Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring — quite
often the hard way. 
Sisters share the scent and smells — the feel of a common childhood.
A sister shares childhood memories and grown-up dreams.
Sisters annoy, interfere, criticize. Indulge in monumental sulks, in huffs, in snide remarks. Borrow. Break. Monopolize the bathroom. Are always underfoot. But if catastrophe should strike, sisters are there. Defending you against all comers.
Between sisters, often, the child’s cry never dies down. “Never leave me,” it says; “do not abandon me.”
It was nice growing up with someone like you — someone to lean on, someone to count on... someone to tell on!
Sisterhood is powerful.
Sisters don’t need words. They have perfected a language of snarls and smiles and frowns and winks — expressions of shocked surprise and incredulity and disbelief. Sniffs and snorts and gasps and sighs — that can undermine any tale you’re telling.
One of the best things about being an adult is the realization that you can share with your sister and still have plenty for yourself.
Sisters share the scent and smells — the feel of a common childhood.
A sister shares childhood memories and grown-up dreams.
Sisters annoy, interfere, criticize. Indulge in monumental sulks, in huffs, in snide remarks. Borrow. Break. Monopolize the bathroom. Are always underfoot. But if catastrophe should strike, sisters are there. Defending you against all comers.
Between sisters, often, the child’s cry never dies down. “Never leave me,” it says; “do not abandon me.”
It was nice growing up with someone like you — someone to lean on, someone to count on... someone to tell on!
Sisterhood is powerful.
Sisters don’t need words. They have perfected a language of snarls and smiles and frowns and winks — expressions of shocked surprise and incredulity and disbelief. Sniffs and snorts and gasps and sighs — that can undermine any tale you’re telling.
One of the best things about being an adult is the realization that you can share with your sister and still have plenty for yourself.
0 comments:
Post a Comment