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When I was 8 years old, my brother was making the noises of the animals I was eating, so I decided to go vegetarian. Then I would give up because I was 8.
This is so weird. They're your brother and aunt." "No, I understand. They're your family too." Rhys said. "They loved you and raised you. That's what family is, right?
On the off chance that you have children, don't clean up at all. As children, my brother and sister and I loved waking up early and playing cocktail party with the leftover debris
I've learnt to realise my brother is my own best friend. He'd always stick his nose in even though I turned around and said "It's none of your business", I know he only wanted to look out for me.
And of course, when you see your brother in the toilet bowl...there's a little voice that say, 'I wonder where he would go...'...if it hadn't been for his head.
I didn't have an agent. I would just write down that I was with my brother's agency, and then the agency would get calls and say that they had no idea who I was.
Growing up, me and my brother, we were kind of exact opposites. We were completely yin and yang. He was more rough and tumble, and I just wanted to play with my girlfriends.
I don't care what you think. You're not my brother," Clary said. "You're a murderer." "I really don't see how those things cancel each other out," said Sebastian.
Atque in pepetuum, frater, ave atque vale,” he whispered. The words of the poem had never seemed so fitting: Forever and ever, my brother, hail and farewell.
Growing up I played in garage bands and cover bands with my older brother, and he got us a gig opening up for some hippie jam band. I was 15. I felt like such an adult!
It is not fashionable anymore, I suppose, to have a regard for one's mother in the way my brother and I had then, in the mid-1950s, when the noise outside the window was mostly wind and sea chime.
My dad, who plays guitar and piano and was in cover bands, along with my older brother, Matt, taught me guitar and stuff. I started writing acoustic songs and playing by myself in 7th grade.
It's a myth that if you're liked by only four people it must be good. It might also be very bad: they might be your mother, your brother, your uncle and your aunt.
I was the best man at my younger brother's wedding and at the time part of my roast to him was I appreciated that he's done the only profession that makes me look good, running a used car dealership.
You know, me winning two gold medals, going for a third one, that's nice. But being there with Mark and my sister, and my brother being the coach, it's a dream come true. It's going to be awesome.