Best 10031 quotes in «mother quotes» category

The children we bring into the world are small replicas of ourselves and our husbands; the pride and joy of grandfathers and grandmothers. We dream of being mothers, and for most of us that dreams are realised naturally. For this is the Miracle of Life.

The children are our future. Lets teach them the right things and protect them from the wrong things.

The circumstances surrounding your birth are not as important as the opportunity to live life.

The Creator favors the man who loves over the man who hates. If you teach hatred to your children, one day your child will have that hatred reflected back onto them, or onto you.

The desires for both a good experience and a healthy baby are very much connected, and there is nothing wrong with wanting both!

The difference was not that one was a pessimist and the other an optimist, it was that one's pessimism had led to an ethos of fear, and the other's pessimism had led to a noisy, fractious disdain for Everything-That-Was. One shrank, the other flailed. One toed the line, the other crossed it out. Much of the time they were at loggerheads, and because Willy found it so easy to shock his mother, he rarely wasted an opportunity to provoke an argument. If only she'd the wit to back off a little, he probably wouldn't have been so insistent about making his points. Her antagonism inspired him, pushed him into ever more extreme positions, and by the time he was ready to leave the house and go off to college, he had indelibly cast himself in his chosen role: as malcontent, as rebel, as outlaw poet prowling the gutters of a ruined world.

The dream of her was the glow of a spent fire on a cold night: warm and welcoming.

The expression in her eyes was bitter as nightshade. 'You ask me about regret? Let me tell you a few things about regret, my darling. There is no end to it. You cannot find the beginning of the chain that brought us from there to here. Should you regret the whole chain, and the air between, or each link separately, as if you could uncouple them? Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself? I've given more thought to this question than you can begin to imagine.

The lights flickered, the pain went away, and her mother was holding her, singing ‘Sleep sweet sleep’. (The Children of Ankh series) Kim Cormack

The greatest legacy a father can leave for his children before he departs is PEACE, otherwise his properties will go in PIECES sooner that he dies.

The Guardians of the Overhead hold the most power in Heaven. They have the power to not only heal, but project. They can influence other Healers around them to make sure that Healer makes better judgment choices in life. Following them is the royal family that rules Heavens dynasty—” “The Caspian family,” I cut in happy that I knew the answer. To know that my family was the second most powerful family in Heaven’s dynasty suddenly made me feel powerful, even though my powers have not come in yet. “Yes,” Mother agreed with friendlies to her voice. “Although we are better known as the Nobles of Heaven. We have the ability to heal others, as well as control ones emotions. As you have noticed, your father and I are most powerful in the day time. That is when our power shines brightest. As the Nobles of Heaven, your father has the ability to control how a Healer acts. If one misbehaves, it is a Nobles job to straighten them up for the good of Heaven. Just by a single command, your father can change that Healers action. For if one Healer acts out, it is a chain reaction. Without consequence, Lumen will be unbalanced.

Their long overdue kiss was interrupted far too soon for either of their likings. “Well, it be about time!” Nothing on God’s earth can douse a man’s ardor like the sound of his mother’s voice.

Their mother had white hands, long tapered fingers, and when she kneaded dough, her wedding ring clinked against the bowl. She was always singing softly as she played the piano with her white hands. She accompanied Emily's dance recitals and she could play anything, but Chopin was the one that Gillian loved. She played Chopin every night, and when she turned the pages, she wasn't really looking at the music. She knew the saddest Waltzes by heart. The saddest were the ones that she knew best, and she would play at bedtime, so falling asleep was like drifting off in autumn forests filled with golden leaves.

The kids just got back from camp. After four days, it's great to have them home. I find myself staring at my wife and how she interacts with them. Spoils them. As if she's making up lost time. I don't know how else to say it, but that shit is hot.

The longest tenured First LOVE and Greatest TEACHER, in-fact life long, is none the other, but Mother.

The Lord gives a good many things twice over, but he don't give ye a mother but once.

The midwife blinked back her own tears. "I don't know But these will be difficult days for your family. The midwife was right: the days that followed were terrible and traumatic. Yet when I think back to this time, I remember very little. Perhaps this is the mind's way of protecting us from events that are so devastating we would otherwise lose all reason. The same way a lizard, if its body is threatened, will drop its tail, providing a distraction to the predator in order with its life. And grief, for anyone who has ever experienced it, is exactly like a predator. It steals first your happiness, and then- if you allow it everything else.

Their courtship unfolded in two settings, a Russian reality overlaid with New York memories

The one who say thanks to his mother and father , is the biggest fool in the world.

The morning was brisk and the coffee was hot and roasted with little gurgles in the room. Rosie hadn’t moved, but she let out a tiny snore every now and again that made everything perfect.

The mother is the child's first relationship, his whole world, his existence. If there is love in the relationship between the child and the mother, the child learns to trust himself, to trust others and to trust life. If there is no love in the relationship between the mother and the child, the child learns to distrust himself, to distrust others and to distrust life.

The only person who worries about my mother is God, and that's only because she wants His job.

The only regret I have is that I couldn't teach you a lesson in humanity and humility. A mother should not depend on his son and that's the one mistake I committed.

The only person can love you in the world is Your mother (real) She forgets with in seconds the bad behavior you did wtih her, she comes backs again with love!

The open forgiveness in her eyes, the uncensored love, terrified me.

The Overhead bears the most powerful Healers in Heaven,” Mother began softly. “The Healers—or Guardian Angels, as we were once known as—are given the most power from the sun. Our powers to heal others come from the light and good of the earth—it is what enables us to wake in the morning.

The pan dulce was perfect, and it gave Anna an idea. Talking to Lila about her favorite memories of her mother had shaken loose parts of the past she had either forgotten or overlooked. Like the songs her mother would sing as she cooked the one and only thing she ever cooked; like that time they visited the family coffee estate and Mum shot a rampaging wild boar and then they cooked and ate it later that night; like the smell of rain in the forest; like the fat, sour gooseberries they would pick off the trees; like fresh peppercorns straight off the vine; like countless other jumbled memories and smells and tastes and sounds that had been tucked away in some corner of her mind gathering dust for so long. Mum's favorite dish, the one and only thing she ever cooked. I'm going to make it. Anna had never learned how to make it, because she had always arrogantly assumed her mother would be around forever, but she had eaten it so many times that she was sure she could recreate it by memory and taste alone. This is it. Her favorite food. She would have to thank Lila for the inspiration later. This was the connection she had been afraid she would never find. It was a way to hold on to everything she had lost. "Can I borrow your wallet, Dad?" Excited for the first time in what felt like months, Anna rushed out to the neighborhood grocery store and picked out the ingredients she hoped would work. Curry leaves, bay leaves, whole black peppercorns, turmeric, ginger, garlic, green chilies, red chilies, limes, honey, and, finally, a fresh shoulder of pork.

The possibility to love another scared me; terrified me actually. Being a free spirit, apart of me is most alive when roaming, than I became a mother and for the first time I felt my heart live outside my body and that's the moment his laughter became my medicine.

The Queen is controlling, the Witch is sadistic, the Hermit is fearful, and the Waif is helpless. And each requires a different approach. Don't let the Queen get the upper hand; be wary even of accepting gifts because it engenders expectations. Don't internalize the Hermit's fears or become limited by them. Don't allow yourself to be alone with the Witch; maintain distance for your own emotional and physical safety. And with the Waif, don't get pulled into her crises and sense of victimization. Pay attention to your own tendencies to want to rescue her, which just feeds the dynamic.

The president is not at all like the powerful icon I imagined her to be. She’s more like I remember Amma: small and delicate with a sari that dances behind her as she walks. Of course, the president is clad in white, the color that shows eternal mourning of a lost child, while Amma never wore white. She wore reds and oranges and deep greens. Colors of celebration, of happiness. Perhaps she wears white now. Now that I am dead to her.

The problem with creations is that they’ll never understand their true value. It’s the same with parents and children. The mother knows her daughter is important but she does not voice this fact. So the daughter will constantly wonder what her worth is. She will forever look to the mother for reassurance. The mother thinks the daughter is clingy. The daughter thinks the mother is cold. The truth is that they don’t communicate with one another. They just assume. And so they assume themselves into resentment. Where they never speak. They never listen. They die wondering why what they gave was never enough. Thankfully this is easily fixed. All that is required is an open mind and a little patience. But who the hell’s got time for that?

There are many things for which I owe gratitude to my dad. Most of all, I am grateful to the only man who could love my mother more than me.

There are various names for god- Allah, Almighty, Jesus and hundreds of other names but the one I like the most is 'mother'.

There are times when a time from my childhood comes to me, swirls around me, teases me as I try to catch the memory in my hands, as I try to catch the scents, the sounds, the warmth of the sun on my young face. In bare feet, I reach for it, the memory that is. I reach for summer nights, playing chase, reach across a thousand miles to the comfort of my father’s voice, to the rush of heat when my mother opens the oven to check on the baking, reach toward the rush of laughter, toward home, toward the glory days of my youth. The only way to catch an elusive memory is to open my heart and swallow it whole. When I die, I’ll be stuffed full of memories, too many to fit into a casket.

The reason why women think men should spend a lot of money on an engagement ring is because women are the ones who get to clean up all the poop (stains and toilet bowl swirls included) that is provided by every family member living in the house until they die.

There are three people in your life: your great love, the one you want to have children with, and the one whom you can spend the rest of your life with. If you find that last one first, you have it made.

There are women who gave birth to children & today are fighting or competing with those children. There are women who trade their children for plate of meal ,a roof over their heads or bottle of alcohol. There are women who gave birth to children & run away from them with new boyfriend,Some want to enjoy life, but their children get in the way. There are women who are suppose to be step moms, but instead they are devil in the childrens life . They come between the children and father and caused more separation, hate and confusion . There are women who gave birth to children , yet they dont know where are their children today . To all women who are raising children with love, even if its not their own. Every female can be a women , but it takes a lot to be a mother. Happy Mothers Day.

There is no greater heaven than the heart of a loving mother She takes care of you when you are still in her womb. She nurtures you after you are born. She hurts when you fall, She celebrates when you make your first steps. She is the only person who genuinely cares about you. She loves you as she loves herself. Her heart is your true paradise. I love you mama.

There is no greater heaven the heart of a loving mother

There is no one who takes care of us as lovingly as our mother does. She is our living God.

There’s a wound most troubled boys share, which, at its core, comes from the feeling that they don’t have their father’s unconditional love.

There she stood, hiding; the mother without child, the voiceless woman full of anger. Her smoked nails hammered her evaporated heart snivelling in the grotty kitchen of disaster. Her face, depleted, cauterised. Her eyes wheezed shame at what she knew would happen to her daughter, again and all over again.

There's no substitute for a mother's warmth on a wintry night!!!

There is only one mother in this world who is the best one; the one that every kid has got.

There was a pause as Leopardstar strained to take a breath, and Mistyfoot half rose, ready to call for help. Then Leopardstar relaxed again. "I am sorry not to have known the joy of having kits. There was a time when I thought it might happen, but it was not to be." Her words faded away as though she was picturing something she had dreamed of long ago. "Perhaps it was for the best. But I would have been proud to call you my daughter, Mistyfoot.

There was something about him that had always rubbed her the wrong way. Before her mother’s death, she [Shiara] could remember her saying that he was a nice enough young man, but not the one for her daughter.

There was one thing that made my mother truly happy: food. In New Hampshire, to save money, she turned off the heat and kept on the oven while she made four varieties of roasted beet soup. She wore pomegranate perfume. At the supermarket, she was like an ant building a hill. At night, she slept with yogurt and honey smeared on her face. Food was my mother's life. Sometimes, I wondered if she'd married my father because of his last name: Seltzer. Her maiden name wasn't really her own. She was adopted. So she took a last name that represented the only part of herself that felt true: food. And seltzer was her secret to delicate crepes, the perfect French onion tart, and fried chicken that actually glittered.

There was the woman I was before my mom died and the one I was now, my old life sitting on the surface of me like a bruise.

There would be, half a million things, I could do, yet I don’t know, what would be so? When I will see you, for the first time, calm, twined in your daddy’s arm, coming towards me, I could do, half a million things- caress your skin, fondle your chin, stroke though your limbs, smoothly touch your lips, and make my silent wishes, for your health and, your intellect. Half a million things, I could do, yet I don’t know, what would be so? When I will see you, for the first time, I could say, half a million things- call you my kid, read a fine script, whisper love in your ears, sing a hymn. Half a million things, I could say, yet I don’t know, what would be so? I fear though, what if I am unable to, do any of this, and all I end up with, is, just a knot of tears, loaded with, some of the most pure prayers, I have ever chaired. Half a million things, I could do and I could say, yet when it happens, little will my practice play. Half a million things, and I wouldn't know, how and where one begins.

The seeds of life inside my womb were present at my birth; a gift from mother's mother, on back to Mother Earth.