Best 10031 quotes in «mother quotes» category

Morality doesn't come from religion; it comes first from our Mother.

Moscow appeared to her as an Asiatic sprawl of twisting streets, wooden shanties, and horse cabs. But already another Moscow was rising up through the chaos of the first. Streets built to accommodate donkey tracks have been torn open and replaced with boulevards broader than two or three Park Avenues. On the sidewalks, pedestrians were being detoured onto planks around enormous construction pits. A smell of sawdust and metal filings hung in the air

Mother are wife are saints, If they are not together

MOTHER IS WATER I wish I could Shower your head with flowers And anoint your feet with my tears, For I know I have caused you So much heartache, frustration and despair – Throughout my youthful years. I wish I could give you The remainder of my life To add to yours, Or simply erase The lines on your face, And mend all that has been torn. For next to God, You are the fire That has given light To the flame in each of my eyes. You are the fountain That nourished my growth, And from your chalice – Gave me life. Without the wetness of your love, The fragrance of your water, Or the trickling sounds of Your voice, I shall always feel thirsty.

Mother, if you love her- Mother, if you love her, keep her clean. Mother, if you lover her, keep her-

Mother is gone. When one person is missing from the table, the whole world feels empty, hollow, echoing with voices of the past. All of us, from that time, have changed. Love is so short.

Mother is water.

Mother knocked once on my door and walked in my room to see me on my bed with the book tight in my grasp. She looked at my night dress and smiled. “Expecting company?” She asked. I flushed. “It was a gift from Aunt Rose. It is only fair that I wear it considering I do not see her that often anymore.” My voice was firm as I looked down at my night dress. The fabric was silky, and the color was minty-green. It made my skin tone much more noticeable and it made my hair stand out from the rest of me. “Are you sure you are not expecting Alexander?” She asked me sitting at the edge of my bed with a smile not only on her face, but in her eyes. “Why do you insist I dress for him?” I returned. “I did not insist that,” Mother answered softly. “I was simply curious as to why you were wearing it. Plus,” Mother flashed me a bright smile. “I saw Alexander walking around the corridor a few minutes ago.” My heart raced. Mother could see my reaction to that and looked back at my night dress. “It is a very pretty dress; I just wish you were to get it in a year or two from now. It seems so….” “Grown up?” I offered. “I suppose it does, yes,” Mother agreed quietly. She ran her hand on the lace that covered the bottom rim of the dress and said, “However the word I was going to say was…suggestive.

Mother, death, love -- everyone shares, unequally, those three poles of fascination.

Mother Earth allows us to live and to walk on her surface, not the other way around.

MOTHER... glorious be thy sparkling WOMB, since your Eternal glow passes from one generation to Other.

Motherhood furnishes us with, not just giving life — but, partaking of life’s learning.

Mother in my first short story is dead, nobody knows how but she is dead and the father somehow madness or who knows from what he decides to start and play with the dead body. It's really a difficult moment.

Mother and wife are saints, If they are not together

Motherhood is a blissful chain...I have a mother - my precious gift...I am a mother - the best of my kind!

Motherhood unwittingly molds us into all we are now, or are - destined to be.

Mothering your man is not sexy for you or for him. If you want your man to "start being a man", start being his lover not his mother.

Motherhood is when eating chicken soup; the kids get the chicken and you get the soup and you would still feel happily stuffed.

Mother Nature is relentless and forward. When we do not live according to her laws she rewards us with disease.

Mother Nature is capable of the most beautiful things and the most destructive forces.

Mother’s tenderness toward my younger sisters caused more tears to pool in my eyes. I felt too old to be hugged and caressed by her, yet my body yearned for her touch; at least this once. I couldn't recall the last time she had shared the same warmth with me. The countless months of hardship had created an ocean of distance between us. It would be too awkward to hug her now. I sat across from her with tear-stained cheeks, wondering if she could feel my sadness and if she knew I loved her unconditionally.

Mother said to me that the angels must have been watching over me when I found you, and that's the way I feel.

Mothers cowered over their small children, defenceless as their backs blossomed with red lines or swords were sunk into their flesh to reach the young ones they hid.

Mother's love created our awe-inspiring moral sense

Mother's ways are higher than others, even when everyone rejects, mother accepts with her arms open and wide.

Mother was,' June thought, 'a beautiful little ornament that was damaged.' Her broken edges cut her daughters in ways both emotional and physical, and only sharpened with age.

Mothers and fathers must be gentle at least some of the time. Mothers and fathers must also be strict at least some of the time. Most of the time, though, most mothers and fathers must be mostly strict and gentle together.

Mothers are our world. Sisters are our sky. Daughters are our stars. Women are our universe.

Mother's hug- The only drug that works every time, costs nothing and has no side effects.

Mother was like this sometimes. Conversations became riddles with traps in them, and your answers had consequences.

Mwanamke mwenye umri wa miaka arobaini na mbili na kuendelea anafaa kuolewa kama ni mjane na ataweza kuwapenda watoto wako kama mama yao alishafariki. Yule ambaye hajawahi kuolewa au aliyewahi kuolewa lakini akaachika bado ni kubahatisha, kwa sababu hujui kwa nini hajaolewa au kwa nini aliachika, hata kama ana watoto.

My arms are empty without you! My heart cries out, lonely in the darkness, but you are not here. No tears shall bring you back into my arms again. My mothers love was not strong enough to keep you, but it is strong enough to follow and find you, though all the mists of Eternity should try to come between!

My arrival Her womb’s delight Her existence My living light Her wounds My scars Her skies My stars Her days My hours Her strength My powers I breathe my name Being her child Without mother Life’s beguiled From the poem 'Mother

My aunt just stood there, and in that second it was as though the world and the future collapsed down into a single point, and I understood that this—the kitchen, the spotless cream linoleum floors, the glaring lights, and the vivid green mass of Jell-O on the counter—was all that was left now that my mother was gone. Suddenly I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t stand the sight of my aunt’s kitchen, which I now understood would be my kitchen. I couldn’t stand the Jell-O. My mother hated Jell-O. An itchy feeling began to work its way through my body, as though a thousand mosquitoes were circulating through my blood, biting me from the inside, making me want to scream, jump, squirm. I ran.

My dear, treacherous mother,” he breathed. “What have you done?

My distant but always a close friend, the loss of a mother is always painful for her children, I am beside you in this hour of grief. Life can be a stepmother , really severe! but in return also too short. soon will come the time you will say the words that you didn't said , you will do what you did not have time to do, to forgive you own for what you did not want to sayd .... Time exists in our soul, only the spirit is eternal.

My father's love was always strongMy mother's glamour lives on and on.Yet still inside I felt alone, for reasones unknow to me.

My father opened my mind, my mother opened my heart, but it was children who opened my soul.

...my father, [was] a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee. At worst? He never beat her, but his pure, inarticulate fury would fill the house for days, weeks, at a time, making the air humid, hard to breathe, my father stalking around with his lower jaw jutting out, giving him the look of a wounded, vengeful boxer, grinding his teeth so loud you could hear it across the room ... I'm sure he told himself: 'I never hit her'. I'm sure because of this technicality he never saw himself as an abuser. But he turned our family life into an endless road trip with bad directions and a rage-clenched driver, a vacation that never got a chance to be fun.

My mama is my feeding bottle... She never goes empty no matter how deep I sip! Thank you mum!

My mama steps out of her dress and drops it, an inheritance falling to my feet. She stands alone: bathed, blooming, burdened with nothing of this world. Her body is naked and beautiful, her wings gray and scorched, her brown eyes piercing the brown of mine. I watch her departure, her flapping wings: She doesn’t look back, not even once, not even to whisper my name

My mother, Delle Hunter, was a physically small woman, yet she was the biggest person I’ve ever known. She had total focus, an attribute that deeply impressed me. She taught me by example that how we live impacts how we die. She lived a life of courage, beauty, and integrity; she died in the same manner.

My mother is my friend Who shares with me her bread All my hopelessness cured! Her company makes me secured!

my mother is pure radiance. she is the sun i can touch and kiss and hold without getting burnt.

My mother picked me up in her arms, touching my checks comforting my distress. I stared into her eyes and held her hair in my small hands, for the first time realizing what a moment in time meant. I touched her cheek and then looked away, knowing this was the truth to life, and there was nothing I could do about it. The truth that her death would one day occur made me realize that I never wanted her to leave my side. It was something I could not control, something no one could ever stop no matter how strong they were.

My mom’s smile is genuine, A lilac beaming In the presence of her Sun. Indentions in the sand prove Time’s linear progression, Her hair yet unblighted, Carrying midnight’s consistency. Clear tracks fading as the Movement slips further In the past. Cheekbones High, soft, In summer’s hue, Hopeful. Each step’s unknown impact, A future looking back. My father’s strength: One whose Life is in his arms. Squinting past the camera, He rests upon a rock Like caramel corn half eaten, Just to the left Of man-made concrete convention Daylight’s eraser Removing color to his right. Dustin sits In my father’s lap, Open mouth of a drooling Big mouth bass; Muscle tone Of a well exercised Jelly fish, He looks at me Half aware; His wheelchair Perched at the edge Of parking lot gravel grafted Like a scar on nature’s beach, Opening to the ironic splendor Of a bitter tasting lake. I took the picture. Age 11. Capturing the pinnacle arc Of a son To my lilac Who Outlived him and weeps, Still. Their sky has staple holes – Maybe that’s how the Light Leaked out.

My mother - Contained God itself A tarnished look of pain A hand clutching her heart A love we can not name A fog or a smoke An infinite thirst for life (But the wing is dead under the frost.) My mother - Is an uncertain form She gets lost when she walks And we sit in the valley And I shelter her to my love My mother Is a broken sky That exhales day and night Its beauty. My mother - Is the scent of a hundred roses And the suffering of so many things My mother Is no more than a dream - I suppose Of those who are said lips closed And behind her veil She sleeps - my mother - And her star Do not doubt anymore of its light.

My mother is my pastor She teaches me the Bible I love her as my mentor She tells me to be humble!

My mother is my teacher Her words make me richer I thank you oh my mother May you grow and live longer!

My mother was an angel of light, love, and compassion.