Best 10031 quotes in «mother quotes» category

It has been a week since Ami died and this morning I woke suddenly hours before dawn, indeed the same hour as when my mother died. It was not a dream that woke me, but a thought. And with that thought I could swear I heard Ami's voice. But I am not frightened. I am joyous. Joyous with realization. For I cannot help but think what a lucky person I am. Imagine that in all the eons of time, in all the possible universes of which Dara speaks, of all the stars in the heavens, Ami and I came together for one brief and shining sliver of time. I stop. I think. Supposing in the grand infinity of this universe two particles of life, Ami and me, swirl endlessly like grains of sand in the oceans of the world -- how much of a chance is there for these two particles, these two grains of sand, to collide, to rest briefly together... at the same moment in time? That is what happened with Ami and me... this miracle of chance.

I" theory take a later of course without "O" and you will see that all are build with "I".

I think maybe, when I was very young, I witnessed a chaste cheek kiss between the two when it was impossible to avoid. Christmas, birthdays. Dry lips. On their best married days, their communications were entirely transactional: 'We're out of milk again.' (I'll get some today.) 'I need this ironed properly.' (I'll do that today.) 'How hard is it to buy milk?' (Silence.) 'You forgot to call the plumber.' (Sigh.) 'Goddammit, put on your coat, right now, and go out and get some goddamn milk. Now.' These messages and orders brought to you by my father, a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee.

This sweetness scooped like some bright fruit plum peach apricot watermelon perhaps from myself this sweetness It is a whimsical touch, which surprises and troubles me. That this stony and prosaic woman should in her secret moments harbor such thoughts. For she was sealed from us- from everyone- with such fierceness that I had thought her incapable of yielding. I never saw her cry. She rarely smiled, and then only in the kitchen with her palette of flavors at her fingertips, talking to herself (so I thought) in the same toneless mutter, enunciating the names of herbs and spices- cinnamon, thyme, peppermint, coriander, saffron, basil, lovage- running a monotonous commentary. See the tile. Has to be the right heat. Too low, the pancake is soggy. Too high, the butter fries black, smokes, the pancake crisps. I understood because I saw in our kitchen seminars the one way in which I might win a little of her approval, and because every good war needs the occasional amnesty. Country recipes from her native Brittany were her favorites; the buckwheat pancakes we ate with everything, the far breton and kouign amann and galette bretonne that we sold in downriver Angers with our goat's cheeses and our sausage and fruit.

It is a fundamental truth that the responsibilities of motherhood cannot be successfully delegated. No, not to day-care centers, not to schools, not to nurseries, not to babysitters. We become enamored with men’s theories such as the idea of preschool training outside the home for young children. Not only does this put added pressure on the budget, but it places young children in an environment away from mother’s influence. Too often the pressure for popularity, on children and teens, places an economic burden on the income of the father, so mother feels she must go to work to satisfy her children’s needs. That decision can be most shortsighted. It is mother’s influence during the crucial formative years that forms a child’s basic character. Home is the place where a child learns faith, feels love, and thereby learns from mother’s loving example to choose righteousness. How vital are mother’s influence and teaching in the home—and how apparent when neglected!

It is brave to be ruthless towards the mother.

It is within your loving and welcoming arms that a new generation will arrive & be greeted.

It rewrites the contract, I'd read somewhere. Your self's no longer central. This thing comes out of you and drags half your soul along after it like a blanket.

It’s a baby. A baby can’t be without a mother.

It's been said that parents should give their children roots and wings. That was a perfect description of my parents. Even in a wheelchair, my father was a dreamer with his head in the clouds and my mother was the roots with both feet planted firmly on terra quaking firma.

❄ It's not just about who is #REAL to your face; it's also about who stays #LOYAL behind your back.

It’s time to stop dreaming about who you want your son to be and help him become the healthy, happy, and successful man he’s supposed to be.

...It’s the beauty of this world, that is so alive that if we see properly, we’d know that heaven is no different than our Planet Earth, which is cared by our Mother Nature. It’s so beautiful…

It was one of the things that she liked best when her mother told her the stories: villains could be heroic, and heroes could do evil.

I've spoken of the patient Peter who was obsessively forced to make conquests with women, to seduce and then to abandon them, until he was at last able to experience how he himself had repeatedly been abandoned by his mother.

I've always looked at America like a foster mother doing it only for the check. At any minute, I just knew she'd be ready to give up on me.

I voted for every woman who has to leave a baby too soon, who has to downgrade her career, or who is made to feel invisible in her role as a mother.

I was not afraid of darkness When I was in you.

i want to stay curled and cosied and chocolated....forever in my mother’s arms.

I want to go back to the tell-me-again times when I slept in her bed and we were everything together. When I was everything to her. Everything she needed.

I was about to die; and then she gave me a birth again

I was required by law and the wooden spoon my mom liked to whoop my ass with to show up [at school ]every day, so I did.

I went into the living room and looked down at my mother’s torn body and shook my head. It was surreal. I guess some people in that situation would have crumbled, some would have cried, but I’d emotionally disconnected from life a long time ago. For that, I had to thank the skeletal bitch on the floor, with her greedy rodent soul and her short-tempered ape-mate in the kitchen. If anything, her death was a belated answer to old prayers, with a bit of an unexpected mess.

I was twenty-two, the same age she was when she'd been pregnant with me. She was going to leave my life at the same moment that I came into hers, I thought. For some reason that sentence came fully formed into my head just then, temporarily blotting out the Fuck them prayer. I almost howled in agony. I almost choked to death on what I knew before I knew. I was going to live the rest of my life without my mother.

I went back to the women and said, 'Tell me exactly what you want us to do.' And they said, 'Don't do anything for us, do something for our children'.

Let there be honor for the fathers. Let there be peace for the mothers. Let there be joy for the children. Let there be light for the world. Let there be love for the universe.

I wish I had lost an arm or a leg. It would have been much easier than losing a part of my heart, which lives on, but now beats to a different rhythm.

I wonder if all mothers feel like this the moment they realize their daughters are growing up- as if it is impossible to believe that the laundry I once folded for her was doll-sized; as if I can still see her dancing in lazy pirouettes along the lip of the sandbox. Wasn't it yesterday that her hand was only as big as the sand dollar she found on the beach? That same hand, the one that's holding a boy's; wasn't it just holding mine, tugging so that I might stop and see the spiderweb, the milkweed pod, any of a thousand moments she wanted me to freeze? Time is an optical illusion- never quite as solid or strong as we think it is. You would assume that, given everything, I saw this coming. But watching Kate watch this boy, I see I have a thousand things to learn.

Let your children uplift your burdens and allow your role as a mother - to flourish and grow.

I wonder if your mother was frightened by Peter Pan before you were born?

Love had still seemed like such a paltry thing in the face of all my doubts then, much the way it felt now. David had worries my love couldn’t touch, fears my love couldn’t easily dispel. My love seemed like a well-worn blanket instead of the titanium shield I needed.

Listen kid, it’s just you and me now, so let’s help each other out. Always be honest with me, and show me how to be the mother and father I never had. I’ll make a mess of things sometimes, and I’m sorry in advance, but I’ll try. My word is bond.

Looked from different aspects hate just cause more problems it doesn't solve. I hate dogs, I hate black people, I hate yellow people, I hate this person, I hate my father, I hate my mother. And in the end what happens?? It gets even more worse, what are you planning better life or a worse life - that's my question?!

Look the world through the eyes of a mother. Enlightenment gives you the power to see the world in the eyes of a loving mother. See the world through the lens of forgiveness, gratefulness and carefulness.

Little boys can be very silly," Anastasia agreed. Her quiet hand stroked Lexi's head, untangling her hair. "But you know what, agapi mou? You shouldn't be scared. I think he's more afraid of you than you are of him." Lexi could feel her mother smiling. She liked her mother's smile. It took up her entire face, radiating from her lips to her dimples to the crinkles around her eyes. "He's new here, and I think he is a very lonely little boy. Do you know why he is mean? He doesn't know how to be nice.

Many parents lack a biblical view of discipline. They tend to think of discipline as revenge - getting even with the children for what they did. Hebrews 12 makes it clear that discipline is not punitive, but corrective. Hebrews 12 calls discipline a word of encouragement that addresses sons. It says discipline is a sign of God's identification with us as our Father. God disciplines us for our good that we might share in his holiness. It says that while discipline is not pleasant, but painful, it yields a harvest of righteousness and peace. Rather than being something to balance love, it is the deepest expression of love.

Mama anaweza kufa ili mwanawe aishi, anaweza kufunga na kuomba ili mwanawe Mungu amsaidie ashinde mtihani wake, anaweza kulala njaa ili mwanawe ale, anaweza kujitolea vitu vingi au mambo mengi katika maisha yake ili mwanawe aishi vizuri, anaweza kuingia dhambini ili mwanawe asamehewe.

Maa" The only word that holds power to give you strength when you are in pain.

Maybe it's just a daughter's job to piss off her mother.

Memory for most is a kind of afterlife; for my mother, it is another form of life.

may my touch always...be tender as i would stroke mother's cheeks when she cried.

Mom is my best friend not because she is my mom, but because- She is the one who understand me without my saying, She is the one who can read my eyes, she is the one who can read my painful heart, She is the one who can give love without any return, She is the one who never leave my hand no matter how much i fight with her, She is the one who never complains for anything you do to her, She is the one with whom i can share everything without fear, She is my best guide, She fight for me when i am innocent, She trust me when others don't, This is why She is the one who is my Best Friend. Love you mom...

Millions of deaths would not have happened if it weren’t for the consumption of alcohol. The same can be said about millions of births.

Mom, how come you never go outside?" "I told you, I'm a vampire.

Mom lies down next to me and we both stare at the ceiling in complete silence. “Boys are like candy,” she suddenly says. I grin. “Really, Mom? That’s your advice? Boys are like candy. What is that? Forrest Gump on teens?

... momma help me turn the face of history to your face. - Getting Down To Get Over - Dedicated To My Mother

Moms will be Moms.. for no one else can be like them.

MOM - noun - One who sacrifices her body, sleep, social life, spending money, eating hot meals, peeing alone, patience, memory, energy and sanity for LOVE!

Moonless nights haunt me. They evoke remembrances of a carefree life when I dreamed without doubt to what my future could be. I yearn for a time when my mother’s tree swayed beneath the dusk like an amber sea, but the past is locked without a key. Never to return—only flee

Moonless nights haunt me. They evoke my once carefree life when I dreamed without doubt to what my future could be. I yearn for a time when my mother’s tree swayed beneath the dusk like an amber sea, but the past is locked without a key. Never to return—only flee.