Quotes About Mother-daughter

Like Mom, Zoe thought–like Mom used to. And that's where they differed, for Zoe wrote quiet poetry suffused with twilight and questions. It's not even good poetry, she thought. I don't have talent, it's her. I should be the one ill; she has so much to offer, so much life. "You're a dark one," her mother said sometimes with amused wonder. "You're a mystery.

I was afraid my mother would ask me why my period was late. I was sure she kept an eye on my underwear as she sorted through the dirty linen I would bring her once a month.

Mama was amazing like that; I spent most of my teenage years assuming that she knew nothing about me, and all of my twenties realizing that she knew everything.

For Astrid, no matter what challenges they go through, they are going to face each other. It's hard for a daughter to accept that her mother is that selfish and that terrible.

Stop looking at me like that. Sorry, I just wanted to savor the moment, Mom replied. What moment? I asked. You're in first place, she said, and then began washing the windows.

No, we're not getting married," I told my mother on the phone when she asked. "He's going to California and I'm staying here." Usually she doesn't phone. Usually she just does things like send me notes with histrionic scrawlings that read, "Well, you know, I can't use these," and along with the notes she encloses coupons for Kotex or Midol.

I guess I felt like I'd failed her [by throwing up]. She had so many demands on her...The one thing she needed from me was that I not need anything from her [Bechdel's mother].

I'm sure these things are true. But the way she says them feels like an implied criticism. As if she's comparing her own selflessness to my self-absorption. But of course that's just evidence of my self-absorption. My mother is probably not thinking anything like this. In fact, my desire to think that she's thinking of me at all is a bit pathetic.

I used to hate how afraid my mom was and how afraid she had made me. Now I understand but I can no longer be like her.

My mother and I never really understood one another. We translated each other's meanings and I seemed to hear less than what was said, while my mother heard more.

But whenever Wen Fu began to shout, she always cried, cried all night long, and would not stop until I told her more lies. "Yiku, be good, and your life will be good too." How could I know that this is how a mother teaches her daughter to be afraid?

Her mother looked pleased at the prospect of being vital to her daughter's success. Ruth sighed, relieved yet sad. Why hadn't she ever asked her mother to make drawings before? She should have done it when her mother's hand and mind were still steady. It broke her heart to see her mother trying so hard, being so conscientious, so determined to be valuable. Making her mother happy would have been easy all along. LuLing simply wanted to be essential, as a mother should be.

She loved her mother and depended on her mother, and yet every single word her mother said annoyed her.

Mas foi sobretudo naquelas horas lentas que me senti realmente sua filha preferida. Quando me abraçava antes de eu ir embora, parecia querer deslizar para dentro de mim e ficar ali, assim como outrora habitei dentro dela.

And every day that I spend as Charlotte and Aiden's mother, I think about my own mother, my wonderful, thoughtful, hilarious mother.

Svetlana's responses to her mother would always swing, unresolved, between sentimental idealizations and bitter anger.

I admired my mother in some ways, although things between us were never easy. She expected too much from me, I felt. She expected me to vindicate her life for her, and the choices she'd made. I didn't want to live my life on her terms. I didn't want to be the model offspring, the incarnation of her ideas. We used to fight about that. I am not your justification for existence, I said to her once.

For so long I'd thought about myself as a girl who'd walked away from her mother's life that it would be a long time before I would start to think about the other part of the bargain, how easily she'd let me go.

Who cares if she called you?" Veblen cried out. There was a time when abreacting to her mother was out of the question, untenable. The slightest ripple between them terrified her. She was aware that her mother had trained her to turn herself inside out, like a pocket to be inspected for pilfered change.

I'll wear one dress and someone will be, 'That's a gorgeous dress.' But my mother will be, like, 'What were you wearing? It looked like a chicken.'

I have a very wonderfully, bizarrely amazing relationship with my mother in that we've been through a myriad of emotions because we've acted together and played all these different kinds of mother-daughters.

I wouldn't say my mother was my best friend, because that sounds odd, but we have a really tight bond and she is my friend on Facebook. Although she only goes on it to check up on me and sometimes we argue about it.

Et c'était là la chose importante: il fallait avant tout se libérer de la mère qui ne pouvait pas comprendre que dans la vie, on pouvait gagner sa liberté, sa dignité, avec des armes différentes de celles qu'elle avait crues bonnes.

à force de voir tant de films, tant de gens s'aimer, tant de départs, tant d'enlacements, tant d'embrassements définitifs, tant de solutions, tant et tant, tant de prédestinations, tant de délaissements cruels, certes, mais inévitables, fatals, déjà ce que Suzanne aurait voulu c'était quitter la mère.