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M Quotes

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“My father picked me up from school one day, and we played hooky and went to the beach. It was too cold to go in the water, so we sat on a blanket and ate pizza. When I got home, my sneakers were full of sand, and I dumped it on my bedroom floor. I didn't know the difference. I was six. My mother screamed at me for the mess, but he wasn't mad. He said that billions of years ago, the world shifting and the oceans moving brought that sand to that spot on the beach, and then I took it away. "Every day," he said, "we change the world," which is a nice thought until I think about how many days and lifetimes I would need to bring a shoe full of sand home until there is no beach, until it made a difference to anyone. Every day, we change the world, but to change the world in a way that means anything, that takes more time than most people have. It never happens all at once. It's slow. It's methodical. It's exhausting. We don't all have the stomach for it.”

“My father probably taught me everything I know, aside from dialogue, which I think I get from my mom a lot more. He certainly didn't teach me everything he knew, but you know he has got this book out called "The Spooky Art," which is essentially an advanced book on writing and it's not... You know it's not ABC, but it's for people who feel that bug and know that they're writers and are willing to put in that time alone. Pretty much the vast majority of what he taught me you can find in that book.”

“My father respected and admired my mother and was a person who was always standing by my side, encouraging me to do more and believed in my capacity. So in that sense, my own experience was very good in becoming an empowered woman. From early on, I carried that strong message: 'You can do it.' So I never had any doubt that women can do a lot.”

“My father's death, it's- it's the reason I can't stand fires.' His hand stilled, then resumed. 'Why?' 'The logs...' She shuddered. 'They crack. It sounds like breaking bone.' 'Like your father's neck.' 'Yes,' she breathed. 'That's what I hear. I don't know how I'll ever not hear his neck snapping when I'm near a fire. It's... it's torture.' He continued to stroke her head. A wave of words pushed themselves out of her. 'I should have found a way to save us before then. Save Elain and Feyre when we were poor. But I was so angry, and I wanted him to try, to fight for us, but he didn't, and I would have let us all starve to prove what a wretch he was. It consumed me so much that... that I let Feyre go into that forest and told myself I didn't care, that she was half-wild, and it didn't matter, and yet...' She let out a wrenching cry. 'I close my eyes and I see her that day she went out to hunt the first time. I see Elain going into the Cauldron. I see her takin by it during the war. I see my father dead. And now I will see Feyre's face when I told her that the baby would kill her.' She shook and shook, her tears burning hot down her cheeks. Cassian kept stroking her hair, her back, as he held her by the lake. 'I hate it,' she said. 'Every part of me that... does these things. And yet I can't stop it. I can't let down this barrier, because to let it fall, to let everything in...' This was what would happen. This shrieking mess she'd become. 'I can't bear to be in my head. I can't bear to hear and see everything, over and over. That is all I hear- the snapping of his neck. His last words to me. That he loved me.' She whispered, 'I didn't deserve that love. I deserve nothing.' Cassian's hands tightened on her, her own hands falling away as she buried her face against his jacket and wept into his chest.”

“My father’s love and kindness during this time astonished me. It was not because he and my mother hadn’t always been this way, they had; but because now I was finally capable of realizing how blessed I was to have them. My parents had remained steadfast and loving, not just after I put them through hell itself, but every step along the way.”