Quotes About Mother

The day had started out suitably dour for a Good Friday, but had suddenly changed its mind and decided to twirl about and show off its autumn colors after all. There was a brisk, flirty breeze, and the sun was pouring through the red leaves of her mother's flame tree.

Chloe handed a pink envelope to Madeline. "Can you keep this, Mummy? It's an invitation to Amabella's party. You have to come dressed as something starting with A. I'm going to dress up as a princess." She ran off.

No one will ever love me as fiercely as my mother did.

Her mother's theory about germs was that one had to ingest and touch as many as possible in order to build up a healthy immunity.

Father's Day is like Mother's Day, except the gift is cheaper.

But right on the heels of that feeling, that suspicion that all is not yet lost, comes the urge to tell my mother, tell her that I am okay today, that I have felt something close to happiness, that I might still be capable of feeling happy. She will want to know that. But I can't tell her. That's the wall I always slam into on a good morning like this. My mother will be worrying about me, and I can't tell her that I'm okay.

I look back on those days and it feels gluttonous, all that time and love and life ahead, no bees in my body and my mother on the other end of the line.

My voice is nothing special, but when your mother tells you something about yourself, even if you've coaxed it out of her, it's hard not to always believe it. I sing to the geese. And I feel her. It's different from remembering her or yearning for her. I feel her near me. I don't know if she is the geese or the river or the sky or the moon. I don't know if she is outside of me or inside of me, but she is here. I feel her love for me. I feel my love reach her. A brief, easy exchange.

My mother was a real person. I am not a real person.

Lynn didn't know my mother, but she's the type of person my mother loved: quick, outspoken, a thin but charming layer of femininity covering a masculine confidence and drive.

My voice is nothing special, but when your mother tells you something about yourself, even if you've coaxed it out of her, it's hard not to always believe it.

I told him the things that were coming back to me about my mother when I was little: her lemon smell

His uncaring mother did not alert him to the intrinsic nature of maternal love. It was keen as it was strong, and it's memory razor sharp.

Love is a bridge that links us heart to heart Mother and child can never live apart.

These three little kittens opened their eyes when they grew old enough, and thought there was nothing so nice in all this wonderful world as their own dear mother, although she told them of a great many nice things, like milk and bread, which they should have when they could go up to the big house where she had her breakfast, dinner, and supper.

Her deepest longing, perhaps, was to be loved unconditionally, and at the same time be left in peace. But she never told anyone. It is shameful and egotistical to hope for unconditional love and at the same time want to be left in peace. The mother's inner worlds were neatly sealed—dark, gilded worlds.

My mother was a modern woman with a limited interest in religion. When the sun set and the fast of the Day of Atonement ended, she shot from the synagogue like a rocket to dance the Charleston.

I wonder if I wouldn't have been more moved if my own mother had taken me in her arms and said, 'I like you'. I wonder if just enjoying your kids company isn't more important.

my mother sees chaos biting at her doorstep, while the rest of us inhabit a fabricated playscape whose benevolence is a collective delusion.

No, this mother purled about her duties like a bubbling brook, and any number of stones hurled at her eddies sank with a harmless rattle to her bed.

It's always the mother's fault, ain't it?" she said softly, collecting her coat. "That boy turn out bad cause his mama a drunk, or she a junkie. She let him run wild, she don't teach him right from wrong. She never home when he back from school. Nobody ever say his daddy a drunk, or his daddy not home after school. And nobody ever say they some kids just damned mean. ...

Any mother could perform the jobs of several air traffic controllers with ease.

I'm proud of what I look like. I'm proud that I look like my mom.

My mom died when I was 8.