Family! Thou art the home of all social evil, a charitable institution for comfortable women, an anchorage for house-fathers, and a hell for children.

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.

The thing that impresses me most about America is the way parents obey their children.

Mother died today. Or maybe it was yesterday, I don’t know. 

Families, I hate you! Shut-in homes, closed doors, jealous possessions of happiness.

He that raises a large family, does indeed, while he lives to observe them, stand…a broader mark for sorrow; but then he stands a broader mark for pleasure too. 

There is not much less vexation in the government of a private family than in the managing of an entire state.

The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other.

Again, men in general desire the good, and not merely what their fathers had.

Nobody, who has not been in the interior of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be.

A family’s photograph album is generally about the extended family—and, often, is all that remains of it.

A Jewish man with parents alive is a fifteen-year-old boy, and will remain a fifteen-year-old boy till they die!

It’s frightening to think that you mark your children merely by being yourself… it seems unfair. You can’t assume the responsibility for everything you do—or don’t do.