Bro Sister Quotes

Luka was last. He stepped forward slowly and placed one hand on either of Sawyer’s shoulders. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you when I had the chance,” Luka told him with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. Sawyer grinned. “Oh, please, I’d like to see you try.” Luka chuckled, pulling Sawyer into a quick bro shoulder hug, and smacked him on the back with two flat palms. “Call me when Demi finds out she has a long-lost sister who looks just like her,” Luka stated as he stepped away. “Fuck you.” Sawyer ran toward him playfully, fist raised.

I don’t want to go to Baltimore. I don’t want to leave my aunt and uncle to continue managing when I should have been here years ago. I don’t want to avoid my neighbors because of some sad contretemps a dozen years ago, but I have wishes too, Sophie Windham.” “What do you wish for?” “A place in your heart. A permanent place in your heart. I wish for my children to have you as their mother. I wish for your idiot brothers to be doting uncles to our children and your sisters to be the aunts who spoil them shamelessly. I wish to make a home with you for our children, where your parents can come inspect our situation and criticize us for being too lenient with our offspring. I want one present, Sophie Windham—a future with you. That is my Christmas wish. Will you grant it?” Lord Valentine’s impromptu recital came to a close as Vim posed his question, and silence filled the air. “Please, Sophie?” Vim was on his knees in the freezing darkness, and he reached for her. He reached out his arms for her just as she—thank God and all the angels—reached for him. “Yes. Yes, Mr. Charpentier, I will be your Christmas, and you shall be mine, and Kit shall belong to us, and we shall belong to him, and my bro—” He growled as he hugged her to him,

When I texted my family the news this afternoon, right after I found out, I could virtually hear their collective sigh of relief at the fact that I was finally accepted somewhere. My sister, Em, replied first with, “Fuck yea, baby bro” followed by, like, fifty exclamation points. Mom messaged, “Oh, honey! We’re so proud of you! (And watch your language, Em!)” while from Dad I got a “I mean, it’s not Harvard . . .” joke that wasn’t fully a joke. My brother, Chris, still hasn’t responded. “I never wanted to go to any of those schools anyway,” I say, answering Seth’s earlier question. It sounds super defensive, but it’s true. I’m not sure what I want to do. For some reason, that’s not okay. Everyone acts like seventeen-year-olds who don’t have their career path mapped out are wasting their lives.

Patroklos and Achilles were virtually brothers by adoption. The word brothers appears as symbol in everyday talk of Vietnam veterans, as in "How y'doin, bro?" or the much more deeply felt, "I had to. He's my bro." The "brotherhood of soldiers" has become a dead metaphor in the mouths of political speechifiers and rear-echelon officers visiting the troops, but the reality of combat calls forth the language and emotion of the earliest and strongest family relationships in every place and era. A veteran, speaking of his closest friend-in-arms, says: It's a closeness you never had before. It's closer than your mother and father, closest [sic] than your brother and sister, or whoever you're closest with in your family. It was...y'know, you'd take a shit, and he'd be right there covering you. And if I take a shit, he'd be covering me...We needed each other to survive.

My smartphone vibrated on my desktop and I looked at it, surprised to see my sister’s face on the screen. I’d texted Ireland earlier to let her know about the engagement. Her reply had been a short and simple, Yay! Stoked. Congrats, bro!

This is the story of how I wear the title “Ultimate Fuckup,” because not only did I accidentally get the girl in the hot pink dress pregnant . . . But I broke bro code. Because the girl in the hot pink dress is the sister of my teammate . . . and best friend.

Me: I told you, I’ll get fired if I dothat. Logan: Come on, sis. Live a little. Weston: As an officer of the law I must remind you…it’s only illegal if you get caught. Me: Guys, I don’t know…I really like myjob. Owen: You’d be the coolest sister ever if you didthis. Me: I’m already the coolest sister. Logan: Dean’s only getting marriedonce. Owen: That’s debatable. I still don’t see how Kara puts up with his ass. Think of it this way, Q: it’s the only bachelor party we’re throwing forhim. Me: Maybe…it’s risky. We’re still working bugs out of the prototype. I wouldn’t want you guys to gethurt. Dean: You guys are assholes. Mom told me the Batmobile isn’t real and all that footage isfake. I crack up,reading Dean’s text twice. We’ve been going at this all day, with my other brothers trying to convince me to let them take the Batmobile out for the bachelor party. Weston: It took MOM telling you it’s not real for you to get it? Jackson never once bought intoit. Owen: And he’s fucking THREE YEARSOLD Logan: hahaha you’re never living this down, bro I send a carefully doctoredphoto of me sitting behind the wheel of the Batmobile to the group text, still laughing as I imagine Dean’s pouting face rightnow. Me: I guess it’ll just be me in this bad boy then. So long, suckers! Logan: He’s believed this for FOUR FUCKING MONTHS, guys Owen: I didn’t think we could keep it going for thatlong. Weston: Q and I get all the credit. Dean: Again. Assholes.

Remove head from ass, bro. Look around. This whole fucking city's like an injustice factory. Maybe they buy you off with a little something you're afraid to lose, a paycheck or a color TV, but you'll never get where they are. Meanwhile, your brother's rotting in a cell somewhere. Your sister's pouring water on the kids' cereal 'cause she can't afford milk. Do you really need me to do the whole bit, in the middle of a riot? The short version is, you're hung up on something that's never going to love you back.

A pain heaves inside me, that my own aunt, my dad’s sister, would see me as someone worthy of contempt, kindling for the gossip fire. I’ve known her my whole life. Laughed at her jokes, eaten her food. It hurts, though I know she’s wrong. It may never stop hurting.

Shit, your sister is--” “I will poke your eyes out,” I growled at him. “Hot as fuck. Your sister is hot as fuck. Poke my eyes out, bro. It’s worth it if she’s the last thing I see.

Rule number one of band-dom: You never sleep with anyone in the band. Rule number one of bro code: You never sleep with anyone’s little sister. Rule number two of bro code: You definitely never sleep with your best friend’s little sister Rule number it’s so obvious it’s a one-two-three count even a deadbeat drummer can keep: You never. Ever . Sleep with your best friend’s little sister when she’s in the band…and he is too.

What…the…” I breathed. “You were married to…” I blinked. “Wait,” I said to my mother, “you were married?” “To your father,” my mother returned. “Until he died.” “Then does that mean…” I blinked again, and turned to Reed, who gave me a shrug and a shake of the head. “You’re my brother?” Reed nodded. “Half, anyway.” Kat spoke up, drawing my attention along with everyone else’s. “What…the hell is going on here? Can I go yet?” “Stay where you are, Kitten,” my mother snapped at her. “My name is Kat!” A withering glare from my mother caused Kat to flinch. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, chastened. “So Sienna and this dude are brother and sister?” Clary piped up from behind me. “Cuz I thought I caught ro-mantic tension between them. Heh,” he guffawed. “Guess it’s more like BRO-mantic tension!” He burst out in uncontrolled laughter which was echoed by no one. “What?” He turned to Bastian. “Roberto, that is funny! Come on!” I turned to Reed. “All this time you’ve been playing Leia to my Luke and you never told me?” He frowned. “What? I’m totally Luke. You’re the girl. Can you make objects move through the air?” He raised his finger and I felt a gust of wind blow my hair. “No? I’m Luke. You’re Leia. Get it straight.” “So who’s Han Solo?” Clary asked seriously. “And Darth Vader?” “I’m going to kill every last one of you pathetic geeks,” my mother said. “And I’m not even going to be nice about it. I’m going to just start draining souls. Will you please stop with the moronic Star Wars references? The movies came out in the 1970s. Most of you weren’t even born then. Move on with your lives.

Dear Goodreads diary, Thanks for receiving me all this time with hands wide open… Thanks for being patient to listen to all my gibberish. Still, I gotta go now. I’ll be absent for some time… But I want to tell you one last story… 2 years ago, a little boy came to me and asked for my help. He was desperate and tired of his life. He asked for my friendship and I was reluctant to accept his offer. I’ve always denied his emails or text messages. I know that boys are BASTARDS, though he looked like a little bird, lost and without wings…The way he talks in missing and dreams, oh GOD I wanna forget about all… it disgusts me each time to remember that he didn’t respect that I’m a conservative girl and tried his ways on me even though I’ve always asked him to stop it…. I mean, I’m 5 years older than him…. His father got sick. They reaaaaaaaally needed help. Though I’ve always known he was a “bastard” like everybody else, I couldn’t possibly leave his mom’s calls unanswered when she always asked for my help. I’ve been through all they’ve been through. I couldn’t give up on them while I knew how much it means to stand for someone who’s been tested for his father. I’m an orphan. How could I possibly walk away? + Our dear Prophet (PBUH) would never treat a misdeed with a misdeed…I’m a girl who loves GOD…I wouldn’t be as mean as him… Still, each time he was acting like bastards act. That meanness I can read in his text messages. That DISRESPECT…. I knew he used every possible memory for his ulterior motives. I kept silent for two years…I knew he was making a show… I mean even if he wasn’t making it because he saw something in me (that everybody saw, not only him), he would be making a show for his friends … Still, I’m not the one who would leave a friend in the middle of the dark…at one point in time, I called him brother…. hhh…. Thought maybe if he knows that I’m his older sister, he’ll think that the way he talked or the things he asked are things you only ask from a girlfriend and not me… he persisted…. I tested him once and he like a fool fell into the trap… I knew I should walk away even if I’d hear that his father would die… I spent whole night throwing in my disbelief…. How could people be so tricky…I’m 5 years older…. Eventually, he made his show… Thank GOD, a colleague… a mouthy colleague… started talking about everyone at school including me and him…that was heaven’s door wide open for me. Though 14 years ago, my friends started talking about me and another boy, I wouldn’t leave him for the world because I knew he was a decent boy… This time, I dived in… One month later, he came into my class not caring what my colleagues would talk…That made me sure that he wants to carry his show over… You know diary, what kills a person the most is not death. Hurt can kill…deception can kill…not apologizing can kill… Bad memories can kill…and I didn’t want to leave him with bad memories…I sent my last text message, told him to fulfill all his dreams and said goodbye…. Still I’ve never felt relieved… I texted him again, faced him with the facts, he thought he fooled me again….I said sorry and goodbye… forever…I waited for some time and then I quit my job so they don’t understand a thing about my motives… I spent two amazing months home; that I would always remember because they’ve changed me a lot…They brought me back to life again…But when I came back, all the bad memories came back again… Dear diary, I know you’ve got tired of my complaints, but I have nobody else to talk to the way I talk to you… I need to forget all the bad memories he left me with… I know I CAN, but I need some time away from you…Even though he’s like a “tafcha” in my life now… still, I have to forgive him… I’m not someone who would spend her time hating people…People like me talk in books and ideas in their social networks… Wait for me diary…I’ll be back…