Quotes About Daughter

I just want to be a good mom who makes her little girl proud.

I love the idea of my daughter looking back at her childhood and growing up with a dog.

We moved to Los Angeles because our daughter wanted to go to Pepperdine.

I mellowed out; my daughter mellowed me out, and I don't get mad at anyone.

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby with no regrets and I don't mind saying it's a sad, sad story when a mother will teach her daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger. And how in the world can the words that I said send somebody so over the edge that they'd write me a letter saying that I better shut up and sing or my life will be over?

He thought about the story his daughter was living and the role she was playing inside that story. He realized he hadn't provided a better role for his daughter. He hadn't mapped out a story for his family. And so his daughter had chosen another story, a story in which she was wanted, even if she was only being used. In the absence of a family story, she'd chosen a story in which there was risk and adventure, rebellion and independence.

I pictured his daughter flipping through the channels of life, as it were, stopping on a story that seemed most compelling at the moment, a story that offered her something, anything, because people can't live without a story, without a role to play.

A great White Bear waits outside. He has faithfully promised to make us all rich if he can but have our youngest daughter.

All I ever wanted to be was a Mechanic," Mari said. Camber nodded, stepping back. "Yet you were willing to be the daughter when called upon. The world suffers from those whose ambition drives them to be more and more. But it needs those willing to be more than they wish when they are needed.

I had found I could best be a good daughter by making sure my father never guessed what to forbid.

I was given such a great gift. It's a miracle that never stops amazing me and reminding me to give thanks, every day. Having a wife and daughter gives me a lot more purpose. I was much more selfish before, but now I think about what kind of role model I'll be. I just want to be a better man.

Among some tossed-out books of my daughter's which I rescued...was one too awful to live. I returned it to the trash, resisting the urge to say a few parting words. All day long the thought of its mingling with chicken bones and olive pits nagged at me. Half a dozen times I removed it and replaced it, like an executioner with scruples about capital punishment. Finally I put it on a high shelf where I wouldn't have to see it. Life imprisonment.

will feel guarded like the treasured daughter I am. I know You are making all things right and good. I know Your love will reign supreme.

It turned out that she did know a little Greek. A few words that her father had picked up and taught her when he heard the army was coming. Mercy was one. Yes and please and what do you want? A father, teaching his daughter how to be a slave.

They will resent you. Worse, they will suspect you, for you are the daughter of a sorcerer and a witch in your own right.

AIR VII—Oh London Is a Fine Town Our Polly is a sad slut! nor heeds what we have taught her. I wonder any man alive will ever rear a daughter! For she must have both hoods and gowns, and hoops to swell her pride, With scarfs and stays, and gloves and lace; and she will have men beside; And when she's dressed with care and cost, all tempting, fine and gay, As men should serve a cucumber, she flings herself away. Our Polly is a sad slut! etc.

Her father had learned only one thing in prison. Not humility, nor patience, nor understanding...Marshall Kofer had learned to listen, at least to his daughter.

Why get cute and drop them off in a postal box to be sent to my daughter's apartment? He had to know that we'd track them and find them within hours. This was a Friday. There was no way the two smartphones would sit undiscovered until Monday.

The new baby was the only daughter and sole surviving heir of James V of Scotland and his second queen, Mary of Guise.

That Christmastime night, all Mr. Lockley could manage to direct to Elaine was a minimally cordial bow—as if he were saying the unutterable, "Good evening, knocked-up faculty daughter. How are you managing now, you smelly little slut?

Good evening, knocked-up faculty daughter. How are you managing now, you smelly little slut?

My God," Franny would say later. "They would bring their daughter to see a murder, but they wouldn't even let her hear about an orgasm. Americans sure are strange.

I really like the sex in your novels," Dorothy told him. "I like how you do it." "I like it better," Miriam said to him, giving her daughter an all-knowing look. "I have the perspective to know what really bad sex is," Dorothy's mom told her. "Please, Mother—don't paint us a picture," Dorothy said.

She demanded payment for it, in advance, in kind. Cows were not enough. A virgin priestess was required, human blood for human blood; the leader's eldest daughter would be best.