Quotes About Mother

A great need a mother has to know that her daughters will find somebody or will be okay in life. That's very primal as they get older. You know, you should get married, you should have children.

A psychic once read my palm and told me I was my mother's mother in a past life. Isn't that weird?

The mother is not dying exactly, but has reached a point in life where death is a familiar on the staircase.

Grief broke down in phrases And extrapolated lines From me without myself Tear-stained pillow of stone I felt I was lying Beside him in the coffin Wormy mother Who takes us into the ground With her whenever and wherever She wants the grass glistens And grows over us in the heat Of late summer in the country

A woman fighting for her child?" he said. "THIS IS GOOD!!!

A Christian has as much choice to be related to the church as a child has to be related to her mother.

There is always a place where, if you listen closely in the night, you will hear a mother telling a story and at the end of the tale, she will ask you this question: 'Ou libéré?' Are you free, my daughter?" My grandmother quickly pressed her fingers over my lips. Now," she said, "you will know how to answer.

A woman has four wonderful characters; a mother, sister, daughter, and wife. She is supportive, dutiful, and lovely for the joyful life and peace of mind within her all characters.

An exception to the law is a mother distinction of all distinctions; it endorses dishonesty and unfairness too.

The human's first institution of love is a mother, and honour is a father, and the journey of that both causes not the gapes, and collapse in the way. As a result, the complex stays, as a missing, one of them.

Mama could peel apples!

I think, at a child's birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity.

I think, at a child's birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift would be curiosity.

And if my mother should emerge from my stomach just now when I think I'm safe?

I was enchanted. Languages for me have a secret venom that every so often foams up and for which there is no antidote. I remember the dialect on my mother's lips when she lost that gentle cadence and yelled at us, poisoned by her unhappiness: I can't take you anymore, I can't take any more. Commands, shouts, insults, life stretching into her words, as when a frayed nerve is just touched, and the pain scrapes away all self-control.

It wasn't my mother's laugh, the obscene laughter of a woman who knows. In Nella there was something chaste and yet vulgar, it was the laugh of an aging virgin that asailed me and pushed me to laugh, too, but in a forced way. [...] I saw myself growing old, with that laugh of malicious innocence in my breast. I thought: I'll end up laughing like that, too.

Languages for me have a secret venom that every so often foams up and for which there is no antidote. I remember the dialect on my mother's lips when she lost that gentle cadence and yelled at us, poisoned by her unhappiness: I can't take you anymore, I can't take any more.

Mia madre vedeva sempre il male dove con mio grande fastidio si scopriva presto o tardi che il male c'era davvero, e il suo occhio strabico pareva fatto apposta per individuare i movimenti segreti del rione.

No te duele nada, Lenù. Te has inventado que tienes que renquear para que tu madre no se muera del todo, y ahora renqueas de veras, y yo te analizo, veo que te hace bien.

She talked to the child and her doll in the pleasing cadence of the Neapolitan dialect that I love, the tender language of playfulness and sweet nothings. I was enchanted. Languages for me have a secret venom that every so often foams up and for which there is no antidote. I remember the dialect on my mother's lips when she lost that gentle cadence and yelled at us, poisoned by her unhappiness: I can't take you anymore, I can't take any more.

Ano, sta?ilo zatáhnout za nit, aby si ?lovÄ›k mohl dál hrát se záhadnou postavou mojí mámy, tu ji obohatit, tu ji ponížit. Ale uvÄ›domila jsem si, že už necítím potÃ…â"¢ebu to dÄ›lat, a pohnula jsem se v paprsku svÄ›tla pÃ…â"¢esnÄ› tak, jak se mi vždycky zdálo, že se pohybuje ona.

I had been a girl who felt lost, this was true. All the hopes of youth seemed to have been destroyed, I seemed to be falling backwards towards my mother, my grandmother, the chain of mute or angry women I came from. Missed opportunities.

Languages for me have a secret venom that every so often foams up and for which there is no antidote. I remember the dialect on my mother's lips when she lost that gentle cadence and yelled at us, poisoned by her unhappiness: I can't take you anymore, I can't take any more. Commands, shouts, insults, life stretching into her words, as when a frayed nerve is just touched, and the pain scrapes away all self-control.

Yes, it was enough to pull one thread to go on playing with the mysterious figure of my mother, now enriching it, now humiliating it.