Quotes About Mother

The baby understands that its mother loves it. [...] Words have their origin in baby talk, so words have their origin in love.

Boys need to have the courage to fight back!" their mother continued. "If you want to keep on playing with girls all the time, I'm going to have to snip off your weenie!

If only I had a mother, the way the ancients had. I mean my own mother. And if for her I could be —not the Builder of the Integral, and not number D-503, and not a molecule of the One State, but just a piece of humanity, a piece of her own self, trampled, crushed, outcast . . .

America and fame: they are equally useful if you want freedom from your mother.

When I was four years old, my mother put me into a school for early music education where you get perfect pitch and harmony and composition.

As the black night descended from the heavens, I knew that in the blink of an eye I would witness the death of the sunset. I saw the exposed and firm chest of the vast earth; its pose was one of calling, of beckoning. And just as a mother beckons her children, so the earth beckoned the coming of night.

Mia madre sosteneva che la terra è il miglior nutrimento dell'uomo, non solo fa crescere i raccolti, ma può anche guarire le malattie. In tutti quegli anni, mi tamponai qualunque ferita con una zolla di umido fango. Aveva ragione mia madre, il fango non va disprezzato, può curare mille malattie.

Noboru tried to compare the corpse confronting the world so nakedly with what might have seemed the unsurpassably naked figures of his mother and the sailor; by comparison, they weren't naked enough. They were still swaddled in skin. Even that marvellous hom and the great wide world whose expanse it had limned couldn't possibly have penetrated as deeply as this ... the pumping of the bared heart placed the peeled kitten in direct and tingling contact with the kernel of the world.

All I know is that if God loves me only half as much as my mother does, he will not send me to Hell.

am depressed because I am being exploited by capitalists, and because under the prevailing social system I have no chance of realising my aims, the therapist may well say that I am projecting onto 'the social system' my own inner difficulties, and I am projecting onto 'the capitalists' unresolved issues with my mother.

I wanted to become a kindergarten teacher like my mother.

I always seemed to forget that needing your mother and getting what you needed from your

A woman is a loving mother, a gorgeous daughter, and beautiful angel of imagination.

A woman is a mother, daughter, and sister of every man; how she could be wrong?

As the mother of the ten-month-old hospitalized in San Diego said, if people want to make that choice, they should go live on an island with its own schools and doctors: "their own little infectious disease island.

My mother was what I wanted to be: an enchanting enigma.

My love for my mother is like an axe. It cuts very deep.

What is a sigh? That would be another good subject for a field study. Is it just a long, deep, audible exhalation of breath? Rose's sigh was intense but not subdued. It was frustrated but not yet sad. A sigh resets the respiratory system so it was possible that my mother had been holding her breath, which suggests she was more nervous than she appeared to be. A sigh is an emotional response to being set a difficult task.

We did not yet entirely understand that Mother, as imagined and politicized by the Societal System, was a delusion. The world loved the delusion more than it loved the mother.

Sometimes, I find myself limping. It's as if my body remembers the way I walk with my mother. Memory is not always reliable. It is not the whole truth. Even I know that.

You have becomes used to administering your mother's medication. So perhaps it is as if you are coming off medication, too? You are using your mother like a shield to protect yourself from making a life. Medication is a ritual which I have now erased from both your lives. Attention! You will have to invent another one.

Mother was The Woman the whole world had imagined to death. It proved very hard to re-negotiate the world's nostalgic phantasy about our purpose in life...we did not yet entirely understand that Mother, as imagined and politicized by the societal system, was a delusion.

I realized my mother had charm and verve. If I blew on her name, ROSE, the letters would shuffle around and come out as EROS, the god of love, winged but lame.

When the coach set me down before that avenue of trees – straight and stern with cicadas screaming in the tall branches – I saw no welcome for a starved brat missing her mama.