Family Struggles Quotes

There was years when my father didn't even make a hundred grand - or barely made a hundred grand - and sure, we had a maid, but she only came twice a week. What do you think happened the other five days? You think those dishes washed themselves? You think those clothes got themselves in the hamper?

My father died when I was 14, and my mother juggled two jobs so she could make sure my sister and I were OK.

My home and my upbringing and just the problems in my family within my extended family were such that it truly was a mix of the good, bad, and the ugly.

My family, ain't no more struggling to pay this bill, pay that bill.

My Mom and Dad had six kids, and four of the six were going down the same road I was.

Sometimes a mother finds in her midst a handicapped child, one child who is abnormal mentally or physically. Then, a whole new set of baffling difficulties presents themselves, and then fervently she prays and how diligently she searches every avenue to find an answer to that child's problems.

My dad died, and he wasn't in my life because he had schizophrenia, so it's been something that my entire family has been fighting against since I can remember.

Families in real life don't tend to resolve things neatly.

Considering the fact that I have been in the spotlight more or less since I was 18, there is an aspect of normality to my public profile, which I have grown to live with. As much as I would like to disappear into the crowd, my work won't let me - difficult as it is for my family.

I grew up in a small town in a low-income family and was the only black kid in my elementary school. I felt like an outsider, and since I didn't know of LGBT people - much less LGBT black women - living happy, healthy, and successful lives, I didn't believe I could ever marry or have a child.

I was a working class Jewish girl. In my girlhood, anti-Semitism was a daily fact of life in Detroit. I did not come from people who had many options in their lives or many choices open to them. I was a girl in a family in which women were, as in society at large, very much second-class citizens. I did not see why I should accept these forced limitations without a fight. Being free to make my own choices thus became very important to me at an early age.

I feel bad for my parents for having to raise me. I was crazy.

My whole family have all been through a difficult time. My focus is my children, our children.

My parents' story is a great example of the American dream. Their struggles, their hard work for a better family... it inspires - that no matter how bad it might seem, you can always move past that and better yourself.

There are dozens of great American writers who write about the family.

When I was growing up, my family was so poor we couldn't afford to pay attention.

My mother had me when she was 15. My father died before I was born. So my mother was a teenage widow, and she used herself as her greatest example so I wouldn't end up in her position.

When I was younger, I remember families like mine who had to deal with the disastrous policies of the 1970s.

I think every family is dysfunctional, and some manage to control it better than others.

I've had the chance to meet families with children who are sick, and it's heartbreaking.

I want to put the interests of ordinary working people right up there, center stage. Those people who - you know, they're working all the hours. They're doing their best for their families and sometimes they just feel the odds are stacked against them.

I read somewhere that Mitt and I have a 'storybook marriage.' Well, in the storybooks I read, there were never long, long, rainy winter afternoons in a house with five boys screaming at once. And those storybooks never seemed to have chapters called MS or breast cancer.

It's hard enough to work and raise a family when your kids are all healthy and relatively normal, but when you add on some kind of disability or disease, it can just be such a burden.

I started when I was 39 as a cabinet secretary, and so I feel like I have lived an experience in my life where I can relate to families that struggle, and are scraping by and scrounging.

Ah, Father! That’s words and only words! Forgive! If he’d not been run over, he’d have come home today drunk and his only shirt dirty and in rags and he’d have fallen asleep like a log, and I should have been sousing and rinsing till daybreak, washing his rags and the children’s and then drying them by the window and as soon as it was daylight I should have been darning them. What’s the use of talking forgiveness! I have forgiven as it is!