Quotes About Mother

How was it possible to miss someone as much as I missed my mother? I missed her so much I wanted to die: a hard, physical longing, like a craving for air underwater.

In New York, everything reminded me of my mother—every taxi, every street corner, every cloud that passed over the sun—but out in this hot mineral emptiness, it was as if she had never existed; I could not even imagine her spirit looking down on me. All trace of her seemed burned away in the thin desert air.

Death is the mother of beauty. And what is beauty? Terror. Beauty is rarely soft or consolatory. Quite the contrary. Genuine beauty is always quite alarming. And if beauty is terror, then what is desire? We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it? To live. To live forever.

While I was still in Amsterdam, I dreamed about my mother for the first time in years.

As Puritan Cotton Mather proclaimed, "Ignorance is the Mother not of Devotion but of HERESY.

Sé feliz tú. Ésa es la mejor manera de hacer feliz a una madre –dijo el cura. –Supongo que no es usted el hijo único de una madre soltera.

Cuidar de mi madre significaba no decir nada que pudiera alterar su frágil optimismo.

Mother, they think Jason's a demon! A demon that you summoned from Urth to be my boyfriend." "Why would you need a demon boyfriend?" "Because no normal guy could survive being my boyfriend

Who is coming up with this plan? Smart Kira or Crazy Kira?" She grinned. "Smart Kira, though according to my mother in the last few years there may be a fine line dividing her from Crazy Kira.

She remembered her own mother tucking her into bed and explaining the reality of life in Rhodesia: if someone with mal intent enters our property, they have declared war on our family.

School was finally out and I was standing on a picnic table in our backyard getting ready for a great summer vacation when my mother walked up to me and ruined it.

my mother never saw the irony of calling me a "son of a bitch

My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.

Serial murderers are frequently found to have unusual or unnatural relationships with their mothers.

Groups of children gathered around them and gave them flowers and placed colored ribbons at their feet. After they were blessed at the wedding, they had a merry celebration, but the false mother and false bride had to leave. And the lips are still warm on the last person who told this tale. -The Children Of The Two Kings

The Mother of Xerxes. B.C. 522–484

The caseworkers told her she was too young to remember being there, but they were wrong. She remembered the floorboards, sticky with blood, the terrifying sound of the fridge, the unstoppable thirst, and the endless blackness that came and lasted so long as she sat with her mother who would not waken.

But now I knew there were so many ways to get hung from a cross—a mother's love for you morphing into something incomprehensible. A dress ghosted in another generation's dreams. A history of fire and ash and loss. Legacy.

Back then, that was as far as Iris could see—pregnancy, then birth, then a baby. She hadn't thought of the shame that would force her mother to move them out of Bushwick. Hadn't thought about the baby growing into a child and one day that child becoming her own age—and older than that.

I swallowed at once envying and adoring all the ways in which the word lovely could refer to my mother. So strange still, how different we were.

Our land moved in grassy waves toward the water. The land ended at the water. Maybe my mother had forgotten this. And kept on walking.

When you're young and your mother leaves, something inside of you fills up with the absence of her. I don't know how to explain. For a long time, there was this place inside of me where love for Marion should have been but wasn't.

was picking my son up at the prison gates when I spotted the mother of the girl he had murdered. Two independent clauses, ten words each, joined by an adverb, made up entirely of words that would once have been unimaginable to think, much less say.

Ah! Si pudiese llegar y echarme a las rodillas de doña Mencía —me digo a mí mismo—, si pudiera ponerme bajo la salvaguardia de mi respetable madre, fantasmas, monstruos que os habéis ensañado conmigo, ¿os atreveréis a violar ese asilo? Allí volveré a encontrar, junto con los sentimientos de la naturaleza, los principios saludables de los que me he apartado; ellos serán mi escudo frente a vosotros.