A Quote by Dan Butler

Besides, I have a sister who's straight. And I want her to know that I love her and support her. — © Dan Butler
Besides, I have a sister who's straight. And I want her to know that I love her and support her.
My sister is my little star, and I'm excited for her and proud of her. With her, I'm protective, but also I don't want to be that sister who's really pushy and thinks they know everything and making her feel like she doesn't know what she's doing. I'm trying to be that cool older sister and not the mom, but it's hard.
My sister is a lesbian and I want her to have that same feeling. A civil partnership is not the same as marriage. She's in a serious relationship with a girl I am obsessed with. I would love her to marry her girlfriend because I love her so much.
My sister gave birth to her daughter in London; for over a year, her husband didn't even ask about her or support her or even see his daughters.
Nobody, she felt, understood her-not her mother, not her father, not her sister or brother, none of the girls or boys at school, nadie - except her man.
Love her, love her, love her! If she favours you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her!
This religion and the Bible require of woman everything, and give her nothing. They ask her support and her love, and repay her with contempt and oppression.
We love a girl for very different qualities than understanding. We love her for her beauty, her youth, her mirth, her confidingness, her character, with its faults, caprices and God knows what other inexpressible charms; but we do not love her understanding.
I know you love her. I’ve never seen you act this crazed in your life. I get that. But Nan hates her. If you love Blaire then protect her from the venom that is dripping from your sister’s fangs. Or I will.
It'll be impossible to protect Brittany for the rest of her life from all the other guys who want to be near her, to see her as I've seen her. Touch her as I've touch her. Man, I never want to let her go.
I will let my daughter do whatever her heart wants. I will support her and guide her and give her all the knowledge that I have because I want her to succeed in whatever she loves.
Her [Eleanor Roosevelt] father was the love of her life. Her father always made her feel wanted, made her feel loved, where her mother made her feel, you know, unloved, judged harshly, never up to par. And she was her father's favorite, and her mother's unfavorite. So her father was the man that she went to for comfort in her imaginings.
What have they done to the earth? What have they done to our fair sister? Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn And tied her with fences and dragged her down
You could be a gambler. A thief, for all I know. Besides—” He captured her hand and stopped her from walking on, holding her in place. “Besides what, you insufferable prude?” “Prude, eh? Do you need another kiss to remind you what a prude I am?” “Don’t you dare.” “Then don’t call me names.” “You started it.
I treat myself like I would my daughter. I brusher her hair, was her laundry, tuck her in goodnight. Most importantly, I feed her. I do not punish her. I do not berate her, leave tears staining her face. I do not leave her alone. I know she deserves more. I know I deserve more.
My youngest sister, Cindy, has Down syndrome, and I remember my mother spending hours and hours with her, teaching her to tie her shoelaces on her own, drilling multiplication tables with Cindy, practicing piano every day with her. No one expected Cindy to get a Ph.D.! But my mom wanted her to be the best she could be, within her limits.
But will I always love her? Does my love for her reside in my head or my heart? The scientist in her believed that emotion resulted from complex limbic brain circuitry that was for her, at this very moment, trapped in the trenches of a battle in which there would be no survivors. The mother in her believed that the love she hadd for her daughter was safe from the mayhem in her mind, because it lived in her heart.
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