Quotes About Grandmother

Well, that boy's voice," my grandmother told me, "that boy's voice could bring those mice back to life!" And it occurs to me now that Owen's voice was the voice of all those murdered mice, coming back to life—with a vengeance.

What my grandmother meant was that supper was ready to eat. Only the cooking of it was finished. As usual, it was an overcooked casserole of unidentifiable ingredients; it was mortally finished, a casserole cooked into submission. Also finished was what remained of my aunts' patience with my uncles' lack of clarity concerning their wartime memories.

The nurses at River Bend reported that Nana sometimes shouted at the golfers. "If you're doing this for exercise, just keep walking—don't keep stopping!" my grandmother yelled at them. It

Eating cookies that you bake with your grandmother is one of the greatest social steps one must experience in order to grow up into a decent world citizen, in my opinion.

The garden, Kitty, the boat, the minister, their grandmother, that handkerchief.

One thing you learn in life is almost everything your grandmother told you when you were young, and which you thought at the time was just the lunacy of old age, is actually true.

My grandmother had a love which found in me so totally its complement, its goal, its constant lodestar, that the genius of great men, all the genius that might ever have existed from the beginning of the world, would have been less precious to my grandmother than a single one of my defects.

And my grandmother had bought them in preference to other books, just as she would have preferred to take a house that had a gothic dovecot, or some other such piece of antiquity as would have a pleasant effect on the mind, filling it with a nostalgic longing for impossible journeys through the realms of time.

She frightened her grandchildren because she had no weakness

In spite of the seven thousand books of expert advice, the right way to disciplne a child is still a mystery to most fathers and...mothers Only your grandmother and Genghis Khan know how to do it.

No less than my grandmother, she dreaded these invasions of strangers, and, in her fear of being too late to escape if she let herself be seen, would fly from the room with a rapidity which always made my father and me laugh at her.

but beneath the words and thoughts of an ungrateful, selfish, and cruel young man there had never been anything that might resemble my grandmother, for, in my frivolity, my love of pleasure, and accustomed as I was to seeing her as an invalid, I contained within me the memory of what she had been only in a virtual state.

And certainly there were many others besides my grandmother and Albertine from whom I had assimilated a word, a glance, but of whom as individual beings I remembered nothing; a book is a great cemetery in which, for the most part, the names upon the tombs are effaced. Sometimes, on the other hand,

It has occurred to me subsequently that this moment of her stroke cannot have come as a complete surprise to my grandmother, that she had possibly even foreseen it well before it occurred, lived with the thought that it would happen. She had not known, of course, when this fatal moment would come—of that she was unsure, as lovers are when a similar sense of uncertainty leads them to base unreasonable hopes and, in turn, unjustified suspicions on the fidelity of their mistresses.

The similarity between the evanescent greetings of the Duchesse de Lambresac and those of my grandmother's friends had begun to interest me, by demonstrating that in narrow and enclosed social circles, whether among the petty bourgeoisie or the high nobility, the old ways persist, enabling us to rediscover, like an archaeologist, how people may have been brought up, and the element of soul that it reflects, in the days of the Vicomte d'Arlincourt and Loïsa Puget.

Marcella recalls in her writings and interviews that she had very little interest in food growing up, but did have vivid memories of her tiny grandmother standing on a crate, rolling pasta into silky sheets that were almost as big as a bedspread.

The child tells me her grandmother showed her how to cure sadness by sucking the juice of an orange, while standing on a beach. Toss the peels onto a wave. Watch the sadness float away.

You don't have to look far to taste some of the best food the world has to offer. I'd pit my grandmother against a 3-star Michelin chef any day.

Cookbooks bear the same relation to real books that microwave food bears to your grandmother?s.

I used to watch my grandmother make fancy, Julia Child-style beef bourguignon. And growing up in New York City, I was exposed to many cultures. I experimented with Puerto Rican and Jamaican food.

A grandmother pretends she doesn't know who you are on Halloween.

First you follow recipes to the letter; then you begin to synthesize some of those recipes, comparing one with another and drawing on what you see as the best of them; then you develop a repertoire of recipes you've made your own. Finally you throw away the books, start shopping, open the refrigerator, and cook. You cook like a grandmother, or like anyone with experience.

If a tie is like kissing your sister, losing is like kissing your grandmother with her teeth out.

I do find things funny. When you see life through the eyes of someone with a good sense of humor, which my grandmother did, life is a human comedy.