I never read the "Bobbsey Twins" or "Boxcar Children."But I did remember being downtown, at the bookstore by myself and having an allowance and spending it on a Nancy Drew mysteries. And I was probably eleven, twelve.
Happiness was born a twin.
Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.
Siamese twins are interesting because they are the only people who can write a biography and an autobiography at the same time.
I was much distressed by next door people who had twin babies & played the violin: but one of the twins died, & the other has eaten the fiddle — so all is peace.
No two men are absolutely alike, not even twins, yet there is much that is indispensably common to all mankind.
Identical twins are ideal lab specimens for studying the difference between learned and inherited traits since they come from the womb preloaded with matching genetic operating systems. Any meaningful differences in their behaviors or personalities are thus likely to have been acquired, not innate.
The boy in the pearl gray suit could have been Jane's twin. His hair was darker, and his lips were not as full, but he was just as lovely.
Let there be spaces in your togetherness
Frankly, when you twin the language of assassination threats with Donald Trump's suggestion that a Hillary Clinton electoral victory would be illegitimate, it scares the hell out of me.
We live under continual threat of two equally fearful, but seemingly opposed destinies: unremitting banality and inconceivable terror. It is fantasy, served out in large rations by the popular arts, which allows most people to cope with these twin specters.
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march.
Can it be, that the Greek grammarians invented their dual number for the particular benefit of twins?
In form and feature, face and limb, I grew so like my brother That folks got taking me for him And each for one another. For one of us was born a twin And not a soul knew which. . . .
In the dark room a cloud of yellow dust flew from beneath the tool like a scatter of sparks from under the hooves of a galloping horse. The twin wheels turned and hummed. Binet was smiling, his chin down, his nostrils distended. He seemed lost in the kind of happiness which, as a rule, accompanies only those mediocre occupations that tickle the intelligence with easy difficulties, and satisfy it with a sense of achievement beyond which there is nothing left for dreams to feed on.
Identical twins. I'm glad they're identical 'cause you save money on photographs. That's what I like. Yeah. Here's my little boy. I got another one just like it.
Being a twin, and being my sister's twin, is such a defining part of my life that I wouldn't know how to be who I am, including a writer, without that being somehow at the centre.
You might think that's an exaggeration but believe me, if you leave twin two-year-olds alone in your living room, at some point a cow will be airborne.
Marcus: Cherry? Jillian: My ten-year-old niece. Marcus: She's named after a piece of fruit? Jillian nodded. Jillian: So is her twin sister, Apple. Marcus: You're kidding me. Jillian: Unfortunately, I'm serious. Their father is fond of fruit pies and thought it would be cute. Marcus: And their mother didn't protest? Jillian: She thinks Steven's cute, so she gives him whatever he wants.
The twin killers of success are impatience and greed.
I've been to war. I've raised twins. If I had a choice, I'd rather go to war.
Sister," he murmured, not as an inquiry, but a statement of fact. "Brother mine," she groaned... before her consciousness slipped from her grasp and she drifted away. But she would come back to him. One way or the other, she would not leave her twin ever again.
And then I wonder, does my brother think of me this way? We entered this world together, one after the other, beats in a pulse. But I will be first to leave it. That's what I've been promised. When we were children, did he dare to imagine an empty space beside him where I then stood giggling, blowing soap bubbles through my fingers? When I die, will he be sorry that he loved me? Sorry that we were twins? Maybe he already is.
The twin gods, Necessity and Chance, walked among the stars. What needed to be, was; what might be, sometimes was.
I love to be with my twins. They are my true joy in life.
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