Quotes About Mother

What do you call the prime requisite of success?" "I shall have to answer that by a somewhat humorous but very shrewd suggestion of another,—select a good mother. Especially for boys, I consider an intelligent, affectionate but considerate mother an almost indispensable requisite to the highest success.

Want has been the great schoolmaster of the race: necessity has been the mother of all great inventions.

You killed more people than anybody in history. Be the best at whatever you do, that's what my mother always told me.

Ender had never spoken of that to anyone, not even to Mother, but had kept it as a memory of holiness, of how his mother loved him when she thought that no one, not even he, could see or hear. That was what Alai had given him: a gift so sacred that even Ender could not be allowed to understand what it meant.

Oh, Val," said Father. "All you have to do is live your life, and everyone around you will be happier." "No greatness, then." "Val," said Mother, "goodness trumps greatness any day." "Not in the history books," said Valentine. "Then the wrong people are writing history, aren't they?" said Father.

Mother's ironic vision of life as one prank after another

Mother's ironic vision of life as one prank after another, in the midst of which you did what was needed.

Only the mother tree remained in the middle of the clearing, bathed in light, heavy with fruit, festooned with blossoms, a perpetual celebrant of the ancient mystery of life.

The wind sounded of Mother Earth's forsaken and abandoned cries.

Dark of the invisible moon. The night now only slightly less black. By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.

See the hand that nursed the serpent. The fine hasped pipes of her fingerbones. The skin bewenned and speckled. The veins are milkblue and bulby. A thin gold ring set with diamonds. That raised the once child's heart of her to agonies of passion before I was. Here is the anguish of mortality. Hopes wrecked, love sundered. See the mother sorrowing. How everything that I was warned of's come to pass.

The mother dead these fourteen years did incubate in her own bosom the creature who would carry her off. The father never speaks her name, the child does not know it. He has a sister in this world that he will not see again. He watches, pale and unwashed. He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence. All history present in that visage, the child the father of the man.

See the hand that nursed the serpent. The fine hasped pipes of her fingerbones. The skin bewenned and speckled. The veins are milkblue and bulby. A thin gold ring set with diamonds. That raised the once child's heart of her to agonies of passion before I was. Here is the anguish of mortality. Hopes wrecked, love sundered. See the mother sorrowing. How everything that I was warned of's come to pass.

The nights now only slightly less black. By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.

The mother dead these fourteen years did incubate in her own bosom the creature who would carry her off.

Cuando los corderos se pierden en el monte, dijo, se les oye llorar. Unas veces acude la madre. Otras el lobo. Les

Vielleicht hat die Sehnsucht nach dieser Welt auch sehr viel mit seiner Mutter zu tun.

Por ansiar tanto pela proteção dele, talvez a mãe tenha confundido a fúria sanguinária com autoridade, e a brutalidade com força.

Mark was the person whose mother's home was one of the meeting places for the early church in Jerusalem (Acts 12:12), so the family may have been relatively well off.

She's a queen and a mother and it's a mother's job to be scary," said Wish. "Well she's very successful at her job," shivered Bodkin.

In my youth, I had respected my father's intelligence, not recognizing how much sharper my mother's was because hers was concealed by being pleasant and female.

Well-- My mother paused, and her tone was reflective in that way that is inevitably sad, because the past is sad. What I remember, she said, is that you were always such a dear little girl.

Because my mother hadn't been an ostentatious or performative person, it had taken me a long time, until college really, to realize how smart and funny she was, and how generously compassionate.

When Jeff Greene was in second grade, seven and a half years old, he got home from school one Tuesday afternoon in early March, and found a note from his mother, saying that she had gone away and would not be coming back.