My mother use to say she would rather be dead than not eat the foods she liked. At eighty-six she met with death but she enjoyed every breath
Come morning, his memory would be of a night spent watching over them all. And each of them - dog and boy, mother and old man - would feel the same.
There is entirely too much tut-tutting in this realm, if you ask me. All these kings would do a deal better if they put down their swords and listened to their mothers.
Mother used to say that however miserable one is, there’s always something to be thankful for. And each morning, when the sky brightened and light began to flood my cell, I agreed with her.
My mother used to say that sometimes if you turn a tragedy over in your hand, you can see a miracle running through it, like fool's gold in the hardest shard of rock.
Blindness to knowledge was his mother and despair of death his father. Darkness and fear gave birth to God. Awareness of truth will kill him.
Mothers give us life, love, and the heartfelt inclination to cry, no matter how old we get.
Neither your mother nor I have any imagination at all and we certainly didn't bring you up to have one
If you would really study my pleasure, mother, you must consider your own comfort and convenience a little more than you do.
Even more than the time when she gave birth, a mother feels her greatest joy when she hears others refer to her son as a wise learned one.
Your mother is going to be fine," the nurse says. I breathe more easily but the word settles into my stomach. Fine. Was she fine before?
I missed my mother and Elysius. It wasn't that I wanted them with me at that very moment. I wanted them in the past. I wanted to have back just one sunny afternoon together.
Buttercup's mother whirled on him. 'Did you forget to pay your taxes?' (This was after taxes. But everything is after taxes. Taxes were here even before stew.)
I must be overtired', Buttercup managed. 'The excitement and all.' 'Rest then', her mother cautioned. 'Terrible things can happen when you're overtired. I was overtired the night your father proposed.
And have your mother put my head on a stake? Do you have any notion what that would do to my handsome good looks?
My mom told me once that Wyatt loved her the way a boy will love his mother, but I loved her the way an artist loves another. Jo taught me what that meant.
Noah?" A welcome voice - not my mother's, but welcome all the same: Echo. A smile spread across my face. This was too good. Me in a towel, alone in the house with my nymph. I left the bathroom.
He did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the faces of many women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces of some mothers also.
A mix of revenge, sadness and anger funnels into a decision that’s so simple and neat, it could fit in my pocket. I will help Kudzu destroy Aevum. Just like Magnus destroyed my mother.
Our stories are what we have,” Our Good Mother says. “Our stories preserve us. we give them to one another. Our stories have value. Do you understand?
A portion of guilt is standard issue for southern boys; our whole lives are convoluted, egregious apologies to our mothers because our fathers have made us such flawed husbands.
