A monster’s not a monster to another monster. At least that’s what I thought when I saw my mother-in-law talking to a statue of Stalin.
As far as her mom was concerned, tea fixed everything. Have a cold? Have some tea. Broken bones? There's a tea for that too. Somewhere in her mother's pantry, Laurel suspected, was a box of tea that said, 'In case of Armageddon, steep three to five m...
Isn't that what I always think when I get The Poor Motherless Girl Look? Like I've been shoved out of the airplane without a parachute because mothers are the parachutes.
She already told me that she doesn't have to be nice, so why do I? Because my mother raised me right? That's why wolves always win. Because the rest of us mind our manners and get devoured for our efforts.
And Mother, I love her dearly, but she flies into a panic whenever I mention women’s rights. As she sees it, it will be so much more difficult to marry me off if I am not only of a weak constitution but of a progressive mind as well.
Now I know I’ll never be numb again. A mother is condemned to feel everything forever. And I’m finally afraid, condemned to fear everything forever. But that makes sense: feel someone else’s pain, feel someone else’s everything. And he’s my...
The baby should always be saved in preference to the mother. That is the advice of the Holy Church, you know that. I was only reminding women of their duty. There is no need to make everything so personal, Margaret. You make everything into your own ...
What could my mother be to yours? What kin is my father to yours anyway? And how did you and I meet ever? But in love our hearts have mingled like red earth and pouring rain.
I lay under Luke, pretty certain I was going to die and wishing I’d made a will. Now, my sisters and mother were going to get all Aunt Ella’s money. I should have left it to Sissy and a cat shelter.
When a mere girl, my mother offered me a dollar if I would read the Bible through; . . . . despairing of reconciling many of its absurd statements with even my childish philosophy, . . . I became a sceptic, doubter, and unbeliever, long ere the 'Good...
There are many things for which I owe gratitude to my dad. Most of all, I am grateful to the only man who could love my mother more than me.
You may have started as my daughter, but it was always understood that one day you would be a wife, mother, and contributor to this Messiah's kingdom. I will never ask anything from you again, but an entire world will. pg 1
It came to Mary now that her mother had been right, after all; Mary had been born for this. In sixteen years she'd shot along the shortest route she could find between life and death, as the crow flew.
Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton. Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as nigh...
She upset Billy simply by being his mother. She made him feel embarrased and ungrateful and weak because she had gone to so much trouble to give him life, and to keep that life going, and Billy didn't really like life at all.
A day without your child is like a day without sunshine; a month without your child is like a month without laughter; a year without your child is like a year without your heart; a lifetime without your child is like a lifetime without your soul…
And?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I almost tapped my foot waiting for him to answer, but caught myself and held my foot still. That would have been weird—way too much like my mother. ~Milayna
I felt afraid. No one would know that, not Mother and not Mike. I’d keep the fear pushed down inside of me, and no one would know it was there. “I’m awfully happy,” I wrote. I was. Awfully happy and awfully in love, and tomorrow I was marryin...
...being aware that the sacred quality hidden in the experience of eroticism is something impossible for language to reach (this is also due to the impossibility of experiencing of re-experiencing anything through language), Bataille still expresses ...
It’s all I’ve seen, all I’ve been through,” I said, “that makes it damn nearly impossible for me to say anything. I’ve lost the knack of making sense. I speak gibberish to the civilized world, and it replies in kind.
Anyway, why would you trust anything written down? She certainly didn't trust "Mothers of Borogravia!" and that was from the government. And if you couldn't trust the government, who could you trust? Very nearly everyone, come to think of it...
