I appeal to you, my friends, as mothers: are you willing to enslave your children? You stare back with horror and indignation at such questions. But why, if slavery is not wrong to those upon whom it is imposed?
I, personally, have had to rise above my feelings of inferiority to my sister Anjelica, not to mention feeling sorry for myself because I lost my mother so young.
I grew up around the theatre. My mother is an actress. I would fall asleep on tons of theatre chairs. It's in my blood; it's in my spirit and my fabric of who I am.
Looking feminine is important to me. My personal style is fairly traditional. I was definitely influenced by my mother, who always looks elegant, and by Estee's classic style; she was always in Givenchy or Ungaro.
My mother's eyes were large and brown, like my son's, but unlike Sam's, they were always frantic, like a hummingbird who can't quite find the flower but keeps jabbing around.
I love God, Jesus Christ, my three children, mother, father, brother, sisters, family in general, my pets, my students, and true friends.
The only person can love you in the world is Your mother (real) She forgets with in seconds the bad behavior you did wtih her, she comes backs again with love!
Mother Teresa once said, "Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted are the greatest poverty." To this I will add: Please believe that one single positive dream is more important than a thousand negative realities.
Here is the real domino theory - gay man to gay man, bisexual man to straight woman, addict mother to newborn baby, they all fall down and someday it will come to you.
Well, I took ballet for many, many years, so my whole childhood really revolved around dance class. I grew up around dance; my mother was a dancer.
I saw my mother in a different light. We all need to do that. You have to be displaced from what's comfortable and routine, and then you get to see things with fresh eyes, with new eyes.
You can take the babushka off the Jewish mother and dress her up in a pair of Seven jeans and Marc Jacobs sling-backs, but she's still going to expect a passel of grandkids.
As he came from his mother's womb Naked shall he return to go as he came Nothing from his labor will he carry away in his hand Ecclesiastes
I have lovely memories of Los Angeles in the 1930s. I came down to live with my mother's cousin and they invited me to come and go to junior college for a year.
I grew up listening to my father argue politics into the night and taking trips every Saturday to the Hood River library where my mother maintained her interest in reading and encouraged the same from her sons.
We criticize mothers for closeness. We criticize fathers for distance. How many of us have expected less from our fathers and appreciated what they gave us more? How many of us always let them off the hook?
I grew up in kind of the last generation of Canadians who thought things that were happening in Britain were more important, almost, than what was happening in Canada. And my mother was fervently of that opinion.
I don't want to overemphasize this, but not a day goes by when I don't think about my mother and what she would think about what I just did. I often adjust my approach.
My mother is a never ending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being. I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune. I love my mom!
Ryder Delaney was the one imperfection in my life.He was the bad boy,black sheep,the one your mother always warned you about.He had only one hard-and-fast rule-Don't Fall In Love
Before becoming a mother I had a hundred theories on how to bring up children. Now I have seven children and only one theory: love them, especially when they least deserve to be loved.
