Mother
Quotes - A mother is the first devotee of God
“But
it was my own mother I turned to.
She
was smiling quietly.
She
said, “Gavin. To me, if you please.”
He
stiffened, but it didn’t last. He squared his shoulders. He dropped my hand and
walked slowly to her. She stood on the steps above him, looking down.
She
said, “Did you make your choice?”
He
said, “Yes.”
“What
did you choose?”
And
Gavin said, “Carter.”
She
started to nod, but then he spoke again.
“And
family. I chose family. Pack. Pack. Pack.”
She
took his face in her hands. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He
shuddered at the press of her lips. She pulled away, but only just.
She
whispered, “This is where you belong. This is where you’re supposed to be. No
one else can have you. No one else can take you. I love you, I love you, I love
you.”
―
T.J. Klune, Brothersong
“Mother
had been the primary breadwinner, while continuing to cook meals, clean the
house, do the laundry, and I had never once heard her express anything like
resentment. Until now. “Then you should do the husband’s work,” she said, her
voice raised.”
―
Tara Westover, Educated
“किताबों से निकल कर तितलियाँ ग़ज़लें
सुनाती हैं
टिफ़िन रखती है मेरी माँ तो बस्ता
मुस्कुराता है”
―
Siraj Faisal Khan
“Tiny
Eleanor Louise Cromwell Bundy, trembling with anxiety, would take the stand to
plead for her son's life. This was her ideal child. This was the baby she had
born in shame, the little boy she had fought to keep with her, the young man in
whom she had taken such overriding pride.”
―
Ann Rule, The Stranger Beside Me: Ted Bundy: The Shocking Inside Story
“A
mother is the first devotee of God.”
―
P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar
“The
desire to be perfect is a maternal parasite, passed from mother to child
through the placenta”
―
Wyrd Lea, Melodia
“The soft wind from the south-west calls in a
voice like my mother's. Italy, it whispers. Greece. Corsica, Sardinia. Its name
is Sirocco, Levante, Ostrale, and sometimes even Khamaseen, and it promises
magic, and freedom, and love. But that cold, clean wind from the
north-north-east has a chilly charm of its own: its name is Mistral, and it
calls to me in a voice I think I know; a voice I first heard when I opened the
map and saw the village with my name. The voice of an unknown future.
Vianne
or Mother? Which will it be?”
―
Joanne Harris, Vianne
“But
how will you die when your time comes,
Narcissus,
since you have no mother? Without a mother, one
cannot
love. Without a mother, one cannot die.”
―
Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund: A Novel by Hermann Hesse
“I
wanted to tell you about my mother, and how she keeps her fingers clasped
around my heart. For many years it has been my most cherished, my secret dream
to make a statue of the mother. She was to me the most sacred of all my images;
I have carried her always inside me, a figure of love and mystery. Only a short
while ago it would have been unbearable to me to think that I might die without
having carved her statue; my life would have seemed useless to me. And now see
how strangely things have turned out: it is not my hands that shape and form
her; it is her hands that shape and form me.
She
is closing her fingers around my heart, she is loosening it, she is emptying
me; she is seducing me into dying and with me dies my dream, the beautiful
statue, the image of the great mother-Eve.
I
can still see it, and if I had force in my hands, I could carve it. But she
doesn't want that; she doesn't want me to make her secret visible. She rather
wants me to die. I'm glad to die; she is making it easy for me.”
―
Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund
“I’ll
tell you like I told my mother, When you loose your memory, there’s nothing
that I’ll be able to tell you to remember me because you don’t know me right
now.”
―
Niedria Kenny, Compilation of Contemplation
“Cosmos
carries no fury like a mother done wrong - Mother brings us into the world,
mother can take us out.”
―
Abhijit Naskar, Sonnets From The Mountaintop
“Mother
brings us into the world, mother can take us out.”
―
Abhijit Naskar, Sonnets From The Mountaintop
“Earth
doesn't need our consent to wipe us out, any more than we asked permission from
corona virus. Cosmos carries no fury like a mother done wrong - Mother brings
us into the world, mother can take us out.”
―
Abhijit Naskar, Sonnets From The Mountaintop
“Why,
how, did my mother start making her birds? I don't know; I never asked. I
suppose it was like growing up with a mother who goes to church on Sundays or
gets her hair done every two weeks. Why? How? But the child whose mother goes
to church on Sundays does not ask those questions, because to that child, it is
a perfectly normal thing to do, to go sit on hard benches in a roomful of
people discussing the specifics of a fairy tale (yes, I've shown my hand here,
I suppose, but sooner or later you and I will have to have this discussion) and
then having cookies and coffee afterward and chatting about the weather.”
―
Emma Pattee, Tilt
“Madness
comes in a crescendo
not
a lonely whisper
or
careless caress
But
with cantankerous squirrels,
on
sequined sidewalks
Liquid
nightmares
paint
psychedelic dreams
Flickering
flame on a wickless candle
burns
with song
Moon
calls her name-
they
dance together
on
dew-dipped slivers
when
blackness bathes the sky
and
melt into oblivion”
―
Melanie Flores, When Worlds Collide
“Crimson
is not yet aware of the depth of the bond between us, but there will come a
time when all will be revealed, and I think she will be pleased.”
―
Melanie Flores, When Worlds Collide
“Well,’
my mother says the next day as I arrive by her bedside with a fresh pot of tea.
‘What should we do?’
I
look at her, puzzled. ‘Do?’ Until now, I thought we’d spend our time together
doing very little, or nothing at all, and that I’d be miserable, although I’d
hide it and deny it. I imagined, in other words, that we’d see one another, as
we always have, across a divide.
‘The
rain seems to be holding off for now,’ my mother continues, glancing out of her
window. ‘Perhaps we could take a walk in the garden?’
‘You
think you can walk?’
‘No.
But there’s a wheelchair on the back porch. Do you feel fit enough to push me
around?’
‘Well,’
I say, brightly. ‘That would certainly make a nice change.’
My
mother snaps her head around and glowers at me. Confused, I replay the final
lines of conversation in my head, then panic. ‘No, no,’ I say, backtracking. ‘I
meant a nice change from being holed up in the bedroom.’
My
mother continues to regard me with her penetrating stare. ‘Of course, you did,’
she says, drily.”
―
Andy Marr, A Matter of Life and Death
“So,
is this par for the course right now?’ I ask, when I’ve found my breath again.
‘The
complaining?’ Rose asks, and blows out her cheeks. ‘Honestly, it’s relentless.
Last weekend, he screamed for half the morning because there was a bump in his
socks. Yesterday, he had an hour-long tantrum because the sausage kept falling
out of his sandwich.’
‘It
can’t always be like this.’
‘You’d
think so, wouldn’t you? Truly, I can understand those mothers who get arrested
for throwing their kids against a wall.’
I
give her a look.
‘I’m
not saying I’d do it, but I can understand the impulse. You just want to stop
all the noise.’
‘I
wouldn’t share that thought with anyone else if I were you.’
Rose
laughs. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m just thinking out loud.”
―
Andy Marr, A Matter of Life and Death
“I
do know that in those last hours before I rescued myself, when I listened to
the passage from the Alto Rhapsody-which I'd heard [my mother] sing-she had
been very much on my mind.”
―
William Styron, Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness
