They're ugly, but those are the facts of life.
Harper LeeRead
You can choose your friends but you sho' can't choose your family, an' they're still kin to you no matter whether you acknowledge 'em or not, and it makes you look right silly when you don't.
Interpretation
Friends are chosen, but family is given and is always part of you, regardless of your relationship with them.
This quote highlights the idea that while we have the freedom to select our friends, our family is something we do not choose. No matter how we perceive our family members, they will always be a part of us, and rejecting or ignoring them can come off as foolish, as the bonds of family are intrinsic and unbreakable.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of family ties at a reunion.
They're ugly, but those are the facts of life.
It's better to be silent than to be a fool.
Don’t talk like that, Dill,” said Aunt Alexandra. “It’s not becoming to a child. It’s – cynical.” “I ain’t cynical, Miss Alexandra. Tellin’ the truth’s not cynical, is it?” “The way you tell it, it is.
With him, life was routine; without him, life was unbearable.
He turned out the light and went into Jem's room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.
We're paying the highest tribute you can pay a man. We trust him to do right. It's that simple.
Children should be able to see the Gospel modeled in the way their father loves their mother with a sacrificial love.
Asking me to describe my son is like asking me to hold the ocean in a paper cup
My mother praised me when I did something good, and then the next moment, she would say, 'Don't float.' She put me in a balloon and then pricked it.
My mother had a slender, small body, but a large heart-a heart so large that everybody's joys found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation.
My family is no different from yours. We may be different from the geography that we come from. Some of you all may pray differently than I do, some of you all may be from a different ethnicity, but we all have the same story.
The mother-women seemed to prevail that summer at Grand Isle. It was easy to know them, fluttering about with extended, protecting wings when any harm, real or imaginary, threatened their precious brood. They were women who idolized their children, worshiped their husbands, and esteemed it a holy privilege to efface themselves as individuals and grow wings as ministering angels.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.