Quotes About Mother

I read a lot on self-esteem issues, and a mother has more impact on the self-esteem of her daughter than peer pressure or media or television.

My husband has always been my biggest supporter, and my mother has finally joined the cheerleading team now that her friends have been telling her that they like my work as well.

My mother tells me I regaled people with stories but I don't remember that. And she disputes the idea that I might be chronically shy. She says I was the most outgoing of all of us.

My mother always tells this story: The day she gave birth to me, she looked down and said, 'Oh, yay. I got a gay one.'

I'm one of 10 children, and all my brothers call me Jim. And all my sisters... well, they call me something even more affectionate. My mother calls me James, and I do what my mother tells me.

I love Chennai and its people. My mother always tells me, 'You should have been born a South Indian!'

It definitely puts a strain on family life - I miss them like mad. Being a working mother I've been juggling house and career from day one. I want to hold out for telly for the second half of the year.

My mother is a Telugu, so I have been familiar with the language since childhood.

Much of the legend surrounding my mother is true. She was a beautiful, talented, warmhearted woman who had the greatest sense of humor. At the same time, she was a sharp, fiery lady who was full of spunk and had a flashy temper.

The gentleman had also a young daughter, of rare goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her mother, who was the best creature in the world.

It's been a long-time dream to build a temple for my mother when she is alive.

A terrific sadness swept over Jerry. As if somebody had died. The way he felt standing in the cemetry that day they buried his mother. And nothing you could do about it.

the storm hit the back of the house. The roof was torn off instantly, and the walls smashed in. The whole building was ripped out of the ground and folded over onto itself. Josh saw the open doorway close around his mother like a mouth, swallowing her out of sight, and then the whole building was blown apart into pieces and snatched away on the wind.

Now, as an adult with that healthy dose of perspective we call experience, I realize my mother was right, as she was so often when it came to my life.

My father knew the depth of my relationship to my mother, and he didn't begrudge us a moment of it. My relationship with him was different. He'd raised me to be a man, and he was proud of me. But to my mother—I suspect to all mothers—their little boys will always be their little boys, no matter how old those boys become.

suspect something was wrong." "She wasn't wearing the pistol earrings, Dan. I know she wasn't, and I tried to tell my father that afternoon," Tracy said. "But he said he was tired and wanted to get my mother home. She

Come the fall, I would be leaving for college and my mother would lose her little boy, and I would lose the person who had always been there for me, my fiercest advocate since the day I'd been born.

You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's. He is more particular.... The father is always a Republican towards his son, and his mother's always a Democrat.

Strike, who had been raised by a mother who listened mainly to metal bands, knew very little about classical music, but there was a looming, ominous quality about this music that he didn't particularly care for.

His own habits of self-discipline, and his preference for cleanliness and order over squalor and chaos, had been forged largely in reaction to his mother's lifestyle. Strike had spent too many hours of his youth enduring the tedium of the perennially stoned to find either pleasure or excitement in the haze of drink, drugs and rock music that had been Leda's natural habitat.

But Strike, whose mother had ensured that he'd spent a large portion of his childhood in a fug of incense, dirt and mysticism, said shortly, "Yeah, well. I'm Team Rational.

He'd been cossetted and wrapped up in cotton wool all his life by his mother, who was a horror .

Xander let the full extent of his misery show on his face for his mother. She gave his knee a shake, sharing his misery. She was good that way. "Give it some time," she whispered. "You'll make new friends and find new things to do. Wait and see.

Oh, Ed!" Mom exclaimed. "It's a Victorian.