Best 10031 quotes in «mother quotes» category

If you are a good parent, please continue to be a good one. But if you are bad parent, today is a great new beginning for you to start a great new chapter of parenthood.

If you have ever done anything wrong with me just know my mom knows and secretly hates you.

If you remember yourself, you will remember me. I am always a part of you. I am your mother.

If you think women are weak, remember they give birth to strong beings.

If you’ve raced home after working ten-hour days to get dinner on the table every night for twenty years…you deserve more than absolution from guilt and the kindness you’d give freely to anyone else. You deserve a gold medal.

If you would really study my pleasure, mother, you must consider your own comfort and convenience a little more than you do.

I had discovered, or rediscovered, that crying is a pleasure—that it can be a pleasure beyond all reckoning if your head is pressed in your mother's waist and her hands are on your back, and if she happens to be wearing clean clothes.

I get a letter once a week from my mama. She say everything fine at home.. I write her back too, when I can, but what I'm gonna tell her that won't start her bawling again? So I just say we is having a nice time and everybody treating us fine.

I had crossed fifty years of my life, and come across uncountable females as son, husband, father, friend in my life. Coming across several women I carefully studied most of them, and feels that I got master knowing female. But every time when my heart comes across to a female, my all knowledge on female goes to a vain. What they want? , What are they looking for? When their mind changes? When their priority changes? No one knows, in a minute they use to change decisions, if someone ask, they says it’s a little thing. They never think, little things makes big or if they can’t stick on little things how they can stand in important decisions. They never show they are weak, but every time they are compromising themselves. It’s their big heart but impacting every around. They always think they can do anything by doing nothing.

I had become a poet long before I learnt how to walk. My mother, a poet, made me a poet in her womb!

I had not asked to be born. Only to be loved.

I have a word to say to my sisters. When I reflect upon the duties and responsibilities devolving upon our mothers and sisters, and the influence they wield, I look upon them as the mainspring and soul of our being here. It is true that man is first. Father Adam was placed here as king of the earth, to bring it into subjection. But when Mother Eve came she had a splendid influence over him. A great many have thought it was not very good; I think it was excellent" (Discourses of Brigham Young, p. 199).).

I know the consequences of what I’ve done. Kill me if You must. There was a long silence, and I could sense Her softening, that strange affection She shared with me above the others. Do you think I rejoice in death? I raised my head. What? There is no joy for Me in punishing you or in taking lives. I do what I must to survive. And not only would I not delight in your death, I would mourn it. You must know by now how dear you are to Me. I swallowed. Why me? Why do I have Your favor more so than the others? She was so tender with me, lifting me up from the sand as if She were cradling a baby. Considering her timelessness and my temporariness, I practically was a newborn in Her eyes. Throughout My many, many years and all the sirens I’ve carried in My hands, none of them has considered Me as you do. There’s been a detachment, a deliberate isolation between them and Me. But you? You come to Me with a sweetness, an attempt to understand. You come to Me even when you are not called. I feel for you what a mother feels for her daughter. To end your life would be to end Mine. I cried again. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt You.

I have started looking into the mirror more often. I have pigmentation, a few blemishes. My body never looked like this, never felt like this- heavy, tired, exhausted, swollen, achy, weak. There are a million reasons to not like myself right now. But one reason that outgrows all these emotions- I am the first home to my baby. A woman can dislike her body, can she really dislike her baby’s abode? Therefore, I love the way it’s swelling- it gives my baby’s tiny arms and legs more space. I love the way it’s pigmenting, it gives my baby better protection from the sun. I love the way it’s exhausted, it prioritises baby’s nutritional requirements over mine. And I would love all the stretch marks in the end too. That’s my baby’s name plate at his first home.

I hope that you mothers will realize that when all is said and done, you have no more compelling responsibility, nor any laden with greater rewards, than the nurture you give your children in an environment of security, peace, companionship, love, and motivation to grow and do well.

I know you don't remember her much, Narcisse, but your mother was very strong. Stronger than anyone I've known; strong and sweet as peach liqueur.

I know my fickle heart still beats because of my mother's heartbeat.

I know there’s something troubling you. I’m not going to ask what it is, if you don’t want to tell me. But remember that I’m your mother. Nothing you say could ever shock me or make me love you less.

I lay down in the mother ash dirt among the crocuses and told her it was okay. That I'd surrendered. That since she died, everything had changed. Things she couldn't have imagined and wouldn't have guessed. My words came out low and steadfast. I was so sad it felt as if someone were choking me, and yet it seemed my whole life depended on my getting those words out. She would always be my mother, I told her, but I had to go. She wasn't there for me in that flowerbed anymore anyway, I explained. I'd put her somewhere else. The only place I could reach her. In me.

I laugh with them because it is one of the worst things to be in a room full of people and not laughting when everybody else is.

I left a note for my mother. I always leave a note for my mother when I am on a case.

I know you think I should be home taking care of my family. That maybe I’d be distracted or I wouldn’t be as committed as the rest of you, but who’s more committed: the person with something to lose, or the people who’ve got nothing left?

... I'll tell her about Tia. I'll tell her how beautiful she was and how brave. And I'll tell her the most important thing of all: that her mother loved her better than her life.

I look at my parents the way mothers look at their toddlers. I take every chance to witness them undisturbed. To study every detail as if sitting for an important exam. I take note of their hands, the curves of their ears, the way they envelop a room and greet others. The way their souls shine through when they speak of something they love, like a candid photograph unveiling beauty and truth. Even though I am present in the same space as them, I am distanced because of the intensity of my love. Every heartbeat reminds me of the ephemeral nature of our bodies and the blessedness of these moments until my father looks up from his book and catches me smiling. And like a child he is bewildered for a moment and smiles back.

I looked at her, exhausted in the hospital bed, and she looked at you, and you looked at me looking at her with eyes that had never known anything else, and for a moment there I swear we saw each other with a clarity that nothing can alter, not time, not heartbreak, not death.

I look through old photo albums and wish I could have met the woman that died so I could be born

I love Hailey and what we have works. Shes's beautiful, she's smart, she's a great mother, and she's heads above what I ever thought I could see in myself.

I look at the cake in my mother's arms and think: here stands the only person in the whole world who'd go to such trouble for fractious, ungrateful me.

I'll teach you," Tiger Lily offered with a shrug of her shoulders. "Did your mother teach you?" he asked. "I don't have a mother," she said. "Like you." For some reason, Peter was glad to hear it.

I love Alice more than life itself, but I can't keep her hidden forever.

I'm going to be a person who writes stories. I never told mom and dad how much I loved them. I wanna be someone who can tell a lot of people how much I love them.

I’m a MAMA! I’ve got REACTIONS & REFLEXES faster than any speeding bullet! HUGS & KISSES more POWERFUL than any drug! EYES in the back of my head! The amazing ABILITY to find stuff out to protect what I LOVE!And the STRENGTH to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders to keep my children safe from harm!

I missed her so much I wanted to die: a hard, physical longing, like a craving for air underwater. Lying awake, I tried to recall all my best memories of her—to freeze her in my mind so I wouldn’t forget her—but instead of birthdays and happy times I kept remembering things like how a few days before she was killed she’d stopped me halfway out the door to pick a thread off my school jacket. For some reason, it was one of the clearest memories I had of her: her knitted eyebrows, the precise gesture of her reaching out to me, everything. Several times too—drifting uneasily between dreaming and sleep—I sat up suddenly in bed at the sound of her voice speaking clearly in my head, remarks she might conceivably have made at some point but that I didn’t actually remember, things like Throw me an apple, would you? and I wonder if this buttons up the front or the back? and This sofa is in a terrible state of disreputableness.

I'm lucky, you see: I had two mothers. One gave life to me; one raised me. But they both loved me. You know, some people don't even get that once... There's only one disadvantage, really, to having two mothers. You know twice the love... but you grieve twice as much.

I’m trying to figure out if you know something that I don’t, or if you’re really this stupid. You might be older and therefore a lot stronger than I am, Sphinx, but I am a mother and a lot more pissed off than you.

I'm trying to tell him everything will be all right, but how can I say it with a straight face? My son's no idiot. He knows when I'm lying. The medicine won't taste bad. The bath is not hot. Daddy will be safe. Lies.

In a child's eyes, a mother is a goddess... I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.

In all ages woman has been the source of all that is pure, unselfish, and heroic in the spirit and life of man.....poetry and fiction are based upon woman's love, and the movements of history are mainly due to the sentiments or ambitions she has inspired......there is no aspiration which any man here to-night entertains, no achievement he seeks to accomplish, no great and honorable ambition he desires to gratify, which is not directly related to either or both a mother or a wife. From the hearth-stone around which linger the recollections of our mother, from the fireside where our wife awaits us, come all the purity, all the hope, and all the courage with which we fight the battle of life. The man who is not thus inspired, who labors not so much to secure the applause of the world as the solid and more precious approval of his home, accomplishes little of good for others or of honor for himself. I close with the hope that each of us may always have near us: 'A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command, And yet a spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.

I'm two days away from day after tomorrow Counting the hours to my upcoming sorrow Suddenly I look into the eyes of my child Then all sadness gone as I smile the way she smiled

In these last days, what the world really needs is courageous parenting from mothers and fathers who are not afraid to speak up and take a stand.

Indeed, analyst Robert Bak calls orgasm "the perfect promise between love and death," the means by which we repatriate separation of mother and child through the momentary extinction of the self. It is true that few of us consciously climb into a lover's bed in the hope of finding our mommy between the sheets. But the sexual loss of our separateness (which may scare people so badly they cannot have orgasm) brings us pleasure, in part, because it unconsciously repeats our first connection.

In last five years, a thousand times have I sat on this window and asked the sky why didn't my mother taught me how to let go.

Inside my house, nobody was home, except everybody, but it was easy to feel like those were one and the same.

Inspector Milne's suspicious prying appeared to have awakened her inner Bolshevik, and so I discovered my own lady mother is not above quietly circumventing the law.

In the last five years, a thousand times have I sat on this window and asked the sky why didn't my mother taught me how to let go.

In your name, the family name is at last because it's the family name that lasts.

In daylight and up close, he was merciless, all smiles and freckles, the brightest, boldest flame a moth could wish for.

In the back of the fridge I checked out some stewed apples destined to fester. I examined them closely and reckoned they had only a day to go, even by my standards. I spooned the apples into tiny bowls, tossed in some dried fruit and sprinkled them with crumble topping. Delicious, they said that night, scraping the bowls so clean they hardly needed to go in the dishwasher. The fools.

In united families, they might sleep with half filled stomach but no one sleeps with empty stomach.

I realized today that a daughter is born twice. For nine months, a mother carries and nourishes her daughter in her stomach, then gives birth to her. It's a happy occasion, but the mother is left feeling sadly empty inside...But I realized today that, after raising her within my love and embrace and sending her off in marriage, this day is just as sad and leaves me just as empty as the one when I first gave birth to her. Picture Man: Only after a parent has let go of their child will the parent truly be an adult. Living creatures leave their nest when ready. But the ones sending them off still anxiously and unnecessarily spread out their hands to catch them.