Margaret Halsey Quotes

Coming closer to home, there is so much of jealousy, pride, arrogance, and carping criticism; fathers who rise in anger over small, inconsequential things and make wives weep and children fear.

I grew up in a family that despised displays of strong emotion, rage in particular. We stewed. We sulked. When arguments did occur, they were full-scale conniptions, and we regarded them as family failings.

My parents' marriage was very rocky. They were always arguing. When they split up when I was in my 20s, my brother and I were both delighted because we knew they weren't good for each other.

The trouble is that, while my parents were great when they were apart, they were terrible together.

My siblings and I kept everything to ourselves, and rather than blowing up in an instant, my family broke apart slowly.

It seemed like my father and I were always fighting. I know a lot of kids go through that with their families, but it was hard for me.

I vividly remember throwing a bowl of porridge at my husband Rayne once when he defended the children instead of me - the patch on the ceiling stayed for years.

Until I began to build and launch rockets, I didn't know my hometown was at war with itself over its children and that my parents were locked in a kind of bloodless combat over how my brother and I would live our lives.

My mother found herself in a triangular situation of my father and his legitimate wife. I experienced the emotional trauma of that triangle in my cradle.

I don't think you have to live in the fantasy world of Westeros to have problems with your mother-in-law.

If I raised my hand to wipe the hair out of my children's eyes, they'd flinch and call their attorney.

My mother is a good woman - a very good woman - and I am, I think, not quite all criminality, but we do not pull together. I am a piece of machinery which, not understanding, my mother winds up the wrong way, setting all the wheels of my composition going in creaking discord.

There's innate competition, I think, between mothers and daughters - mine no more so than anyone else.

I think most people know the concept of difficult family situations. So I try to just ground a very big concept in something we can all relate to on some level.

They carried on sniping in the front seat, and Mae turned back to Jamie. "You doing okay?" she murmured. "Yes," said Jamie, a bit too earnestly. "I love you, Mae. Your hair is the color of flamingos! And I love Nick as well." He gazed soulfully in Nick's direction. "Sometimes when you are not being psychotic, you are quite funny. And you!" He regarded Seb for a long moment. "No, I still don't like you," he decided. "Maybe I need another drink." "I don't think so," Nick said.

Domesticity is essentially drama, for drama is conflict, and the home compels conflict by its concentration of active personalities in a small area. The real objection to domesticity is that it is too exciting.

No matter how successful I got, my mother still thinks I'm a bad person, basically.

Do let him read the papers. But not while you accusingly tiptoe around the room, or perch much like a silent bird of prey on the edge of your most uncomfortable chair. (He will read them anyway, and he should read them, so let him choose his own good time.) Don't make a big exit. Just go. But kiss him quickly, before you go, otherwise he might think you are angry; he is used to suspecting he is doing something wrong.

They are all alike you know. They hold their tongues for years and you think you're safe, but when the opportunity comes they remember everything.

Do you want to see a mother and son antagonistically attack each other every single episode for five years? I don't think so.

The sudden silence is horrifying, and it seems to catch my mother off guard. A tiny whimper escapes her, the sound amplified in the stillness. Surely, my father hears her now; surely he and I can't go on pretending she isn't crying.

They (mothers-in-law) never leave when they say they will. When my mother-in-law visits, the mice throw themselves at the cat, begging to be eaten.

If Terri was upset about how silly she would look, her mother was completely undone. Seems she wanted Terri in her full natural bloom, not with any blooming flower.

I do not think we remember our family in any real sense. We live in them instead

She loved her mother and depended on her mother, and yet every single word her mother said annoyed her.