Best 118 quotes in «daughters quotes» category

It will never end. Till the world ends in the chaos of Ragnarok, we will fight for our women, for our land, and for our homes. Some Christians speak of peace, of the evil of war, and who does not want peace? But then some crazed warrior comes screaming his god's filthy name into your face and his only ambitions are to kill you, to rape your wife, to enslave your daughters, and take your home, and so you must fight.

Ordinary days deliver joy easily again & I can’t take it. If I could tell you how her eyes laughed or describe the rage of her suffering, I must admit that lately my memories are sometimes like a color warping in my blue mind. Metal abandoned in rain. My mother will not move. Which is to say that sometimes the true color of her casket jumps from my head like something burnt down in the genesis of a struck flame. Which is to say that I miss the mind I had when I had my mother. I own what is yet. Which means I am already holding my own absence in faith. I still carry a faded slip of paper where she once wrote a word with a pencil & crossed it out. From tree to tree, around her grave I have walked, & turned back if only to remind myself that there are some kinds of peace, which will not be moved. How awful to have such wonder. The final way wonder itself opened beneath my mother’s face at the last moment. As if she was a small girl kneeling in a puddle & looking at her face for the first time, her fingers gripping the loud, wet rim of the universe.

My identity rests solely on my two most precious masterpieces; my daughters.

My smart and kind and beautiful girl.” He liked to say that, had been saying it for years, and had always put “beautiful” last. Whether it was true or not, he'd tell me it was the least important of the three. “You are smart,” he'd say. “You should be kind. And if you are, you'll always be beautiful.

On famous relatives - First I was my mother's daughter..and now..I am my daughter's mother !

Momentarily, I could forget the sorrow of my absent daughter by being the daughter who was present.

Not every daughter mourns the loss of a mother.

oh. she heard it too-no waters coursing, canyon empty, sun soundless- and the beast your life nowhere hiding (p. 103)

Our daughters aren’t the same people we are, nor are they extensions of ourselves. They are unique individuals in God’s eyes, responsible to Him for the choices they make, not to their mothers.

Palmira. She’s like an apparition floating unknowingly into her future,' I said. 'Here for too brief a time.

Papi, I don't know what to do anymore." Lourdes begins to cry. "No matter what I do, Pilar hates me." "Pilar doesn't hate you, hija. She just hasn't learned to love you yet.

Parental neglect even in intact families, can have a shattering effect on how daughters- even those with loving mothers- feel about men.

Seed becomes tree, son becomes stranger.

Reading Aloud to My Father I chose the book haphazard from the shelf, but with Nabokov's first sentence I knew it wasn't the thing to read to a dying man: The cradle rocks above an abyss, it began, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. The words disturbed both of us immediately, and I stopped. With music it was the same -- Chopin's Piano Concerto — he asked me to turn it off. He ceased eating, and drank little, while the tumors briskly appropriated what was left of him. But to return to the cradle rocking. I think Nabokov had it wrong. This is the abyss. That's why babies howl at birth, and why the dying so often reach for something only they can apprehend. At the end they don't want their hands to be under the covers, and if you should put your hand on theirs in a tentative gesture of solidarity, they'll pull the hand free; and you must honor that desire, and let them pull it free.

Remember and honor our Mothers always in the spiritual and physical realms.

Rolando pursed his lips and sighed. “Just be careful.” “Why, because her father carries a gun?” Isaac said. “Aren’t you the one who always said guns don’t shoot people?” “No, it was you who said that.” Rolando corrected his son. “I’ve said fathers with guns and beautiful daughters shoot people. Boys in particular.” “You worry too much, dad.” “One day, when you are a father, you will understand.

Raising a daughter who is aware and knowledgeable of the world so that she can navigate through it with her eyes open, rather than closed, can be one of her best protection. Knowledge is power. - Raising A Strong Daughter: What Fathers Should Know by Finlay Gow JD and Kailin Gow MA

Rosabella Beauty was the daughter of the famous Beauty, a girl whose love had turned the Beast back into a prince. Darling Charming was the daughter of the renowned King Charming, whose royal storyline stretched back to the very beginning of stories. The Charming men had always been known for their heroic deeds, luxurious hair, and enchanting eyes. Darling's two brothers were expected to follow in King Charming's heroic footsteps by saving damsels, slaying dragons, and basically conquering whatever evil stepped into their paths. Darling, however, was not a son. She was a daughter. And being a daughter was a different matter altogether. No heroic deeds were expected of her. No quests or adventures. While the activities of the Charming princes had always been celebrated by poets and storytellers, the Charming princesses had a singular destiny- to be damsels in distress waiting for rescue.

She remembers once handing her father a flower she picked and how in the act of giving she experienced herself as that flower - the sticky stalk resin, the hard green shoots, the sheltered stamens and raw red anthers. She needed him to understand her no less than she needed to remain a mystery.

Susannah was lonely; I knew that about her, could see it among all the other small trophies of unhappiness that she lined up on triumphant display for me, the way children often do, providing an entire museum of disappointments and inviting the parents in, as if to say: You see? You see how you fucked me up and what it led to? It led to this!

She was her own Enigma Code and me and my dad were not Bletchley Park.

Someday daughters will be trained just as sons by their parents to assume leadership positions. There are the exceptions today where a daughter assumes leadership over a state or corporation, but those are still exceptions today. A shame since women have overtaken men in being the dominant consumers and decision makers in the family. - Strong by Kailin Gow on Raising a Strong Woman Leader

She's my best friend—she's everything to me. It's always just been me and her against the world.

She was a victim of her own brain chemistry, and as her daughter my role was to accept and love her for who she was, not who I wanted her to to be.

The future? Like the past, like the present. Little girls who lose their fathers cry all their lives. Hard to blame Edgar for her tears: no doubt she makes Edgar the cause of them. He says so often enough. Mona and Minne shall not lose their father, she is determined on it. She will cry now and for ever, so that Minnie and Mona can grow up to laugh — though no doubt their laughter, as they look back, will be tinged with pity, at best, and derision, at worst, for a mother who lives as theirs did. Minnie and Mona, saved from understanding. ("The Man With No Eyes")

Teach your daughters their battle cries are needed far more than their silence and hear them deafen the world with their fearlessness.

The Bible says that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the sons to the seventh generation. But I believe it's the daughters who bear the brunt of most family sins. At least that's so in my family.

The daughter prays; the mother listens.

...the habitants, dressed in their brightest colors and wearing their shoes, lined the Route de Rivière, waving and shouting, “Bon jour, Monsieur Reneau. Congratulations on your marriage." Once he passed however, they whispered to each other. “Poor Monsieur Reneau. Certainly he is a fertile man, two wives, sixteen daughters, yet no son." "The Reneau seed is cursed," some surmised but others held out hope for their Seigneur. “Perhaps this third wife will give him a healthy boy, eh?” Zacharie, third Lord of Paradise. The Last Lord of Paradise––Generation Three

The innocent little girl said at the end of her prayer "Jesus, please take care of yourself because if anything happens to you, we are all in trouble

The idea that women should be kept weak, uneducated, and dependent on a man in ancient civilization was somewhat misinterpreted and misused, if they were referring to biblical support. In fact, in Ancient Israel women could own property. The Book of Proverbs describes an ideal woman as a woman who has the means and capacity to make financial and business decisions. It says 'she considers a field and buys it'. (Proverbs 31:16) - Raising A Strong Daughter: What Fathers Should Know by Finlay Gow JD and Kailin Gow MA

The illusions of paternal love are perhaps no less poignant than those of the other kind; many daughters regard their fathers merely as the old men who leave their fortunes to them.

Then, I continue my journey where the wind takes the tears, and the miles soften the memories.

The more a daughter knows about the details of her mother's life - without flinching or whining - the stronger the daughter.

The next day, the cycle starts again. We’re set out like decorative plates in this cavernous architecture, and such a craggy dining hall it is. Not exactly a Claude Monet cottage, more of a Medieval bastion—a vestige of Roman conquests. It still moans with the rickety sounds of age. I can almost hear the grumblings of ancient inhabitants.

The Truth is, we all get lost as we try to find our way. Perhaps the key is to stop, take a look around and enjoy the scenery as we go.

They entered the summer parlor, where the Ravenels chatted amiably with his sisters, Phoebe and Seraphina. Phoebe, the oldest of the Challon siblings, had inherited their mother's warm and deeply loving nature, and their father's acerbic wit. Five years ago she had married her childhood sweetheart, Henry, Lord Clare, who had suffered from a chronic illness for most of his life. The worsening symptoms had gradually reduced him to a shadow of the man he'd once been, and he'd finally succumbed while Phoebe was pregnant with their second child. Although the first year of mourning was over, Phoebe hadn't yet returned to her former self. She went outdoors so seldom that her freckles had vanished, and she looked wan and thin. The ghost of grief still lingered in her gaze. Their younger sister, Seraphina, an effervescent eighteen-year-old with strawberry-blonde hair, was talking to Cassandra. Although Seraphina was old enough to have come out in society by now, the duke and duchess had persuaded her to wait another year. A girl with her sweet nature, her beauty, and her mammoth dowry would be targeted by every eligible man in Europe and beyond. For Seraphina, the London Season would be a gauntlet, and the more prepared she was, the better.

They were like an iceberg, it occurred to me, my father the seven-sights that was under the water and my mother the luminous portion riding the waves. But no, they were two icebergs: solitary phenomena, impressive, independent, known only to themselves. I felt their hidden seven-eighths inside me as a dark bulkiness whose outlines I was always trying to map.

They were daughters of the sky. Luck belonged to them— never bad, often good, sometimes hard.

They were like an iceberg, it occurred to me, my father the seven-eighths that was under the water and my mother the luminous portion riding the waves. But no, they were two icebergs: solitary phenomena, impressive, independent, known only to themselves. I felt their hidden seven-eighths inside me as a dark bulkiness whose outlines I was always trying to map.

They were talking more distantly than if they were strangers who had just met, for if they had been he would have been interested in her just because of that, and curious, but their common past was a wall of indifference between them. Kitty knew too well that she had done nothing to beget her father's affection, he had never counted in the house and had been taken for granted, the bread-winner who was a little despised because he could provide no more luxuriously for his family; but she had taken for granted that he loved her just because he was her father, and it was a shock to discover that his heart was empty of feeling for her. She had known that they were all bored by him, but it had never occurred to her that he was equally bored by them. He was as ever kind and subdued, but the sad perspicacity which she had learnt in suffering suggested to her that, though he probably never acknowledged it to himself and never would, in his heart he disliked her.

This is for the kids who know that the worst kind of fear isn't the thing that makes you scream, but the one that steals your voice and keeps you silent.

This is a perfectly good picture. And if I didn't know you, I would be impressed and charmed. But I do know you." He thought some more, wondering whether he dared say precisely what he felt, for he knew he could never explain exactly why the idea came to him. "It's the painting of a dutiful daughter," he said eventually, looking at her cautiously to see her reaction. "You want to please. You are always aware of what the person looking at this picture will think of it. Because of that you've missed something important. Does that make sense?" She thought, then nodded. "All right," she said grudgingly and with just a touch of despair in her voice. "You win." Julien grunted. "Have another go, then. I shall come back and come back until you figure it out." "And you'll know?" "You'll know. I will merely get the benefit of it.

We must avoid possession," he said. "But, oh, let me kiss you.

Was it possible this one would be a son too? She hoped so, but not because she favored men. Her husband modeled the seriousness, the stoicism, that she hoped her sons would inherit, but she had nothing to teach a daughter. She could teach her to dream—say, to be a painter, as she herself had been trained—and then teach her to let it go. Teach her to cloister herself in dark hallways, admiring how the light fell through the rice-paper doors while knowing that there was no point in putting it on canvas.

We gotta start teaching our daughters to be somebodies instead of somebody's.

We’re all carrying our coffins with us every day.” Or “We are all constantly cheating death.

This was why Kiki had dreaded having girls: she knew she wouldn't be able to protect them from self-disgust.

We must teach our girls that if they speak their mind, they can create the world they want to see. (145)

We’re not protecting our daughters if we forbid makeup, eschew fashionable hairstyles, or wear dowdy clothes. The feminine form is beautiful. Sure, we don’t want to hide behind makeup or wear immodest clothes to draw attention to ourselves. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to accent our femininity.