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Mothers Quotes

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Mothers Quotes

“It’s just that . . . well, I like the night. And it’s a good place to hide.” “Hide? From what?” Stella inched away, making a face. “I come out here to practice, Mama. I’ve got stuff in my head, but I don’t know how to get it out. I try to write it down some“times, but I’m not very good at it. It’s like my brains are dumplings in somebody else’s soup.” She looked up toward the stars, but even the sky had turned murky. Her mother hugged her closer. “I’ve talked to Gertrude Grayson a time or two,” she said gently. Stella stiffened. Betrayed! “She says you are the best thinker in the school.”

“The poor mother! This is the reward you get for your love. Is that what you expected? Well, the fact of the matter is that mothers don't expect rewards. There's no rhyme or reason — they just love. Do you achieve greatness and fame, are you proud, is your name on everyone's lips, do your deeds resound around the world? Then your mother trembles with joy, she weeps, laughs and prays long and ardently. But you, the son, rarely think of sharing your success with the woman who bore you. Are you lacking in wit or spirit, has nature denied you beauty, are your heart and body dogged by ill health, do people shun you, and is there no place for you among them? Then so much the bigger is your place in a mother's heart, and so much more tightly does she enfold you in her arms, ill-favored, failed creature though you are, and so much the longer and more fervently does she pray for you.”

“Maa to Maa hai.. ** Door ho tum.. jo ghar se apne.. To sochte hoge.. office mein baithe.. Maa kaisi hogi? Maa kaisi hogi? Ghar pe hai, to theek hi hogi. Kaam mein doobe, tum sochte hoge.. Maa jaagti hogi.. ya soti hogi. Maa to Maa hai.. Jaag hi rahi hai.. soi nai.. shayad roti hogi. Sochti hogi tum aaoge.. Dhoondhti hogi kaunsi raah se.. Tum door ho na.. samjhoge kaise. Darti hai vo.. khali ghar ke kone se.. Jhule ke khali hone se.. Mausam ke badalne se. tumhare ghar se chalne se. Puchti hai fir kab aaoge.. bta dena.. Saansein thodi hain.. hak apna jata dena. Ik baar to din mein baat kiya kar.. Neend achi aati hai.. teri Awaz sunkar.. Teri hasi, teri khushi ke vaaste.. kare sab kurbaan vo tujhpe. Duaayen deti hogi Maa to maa hai.. Roti hogi.. Fir chup chaap soti hogi. ***”

“Touch is the most basic and fundamental of human experiences. Before we can suckle, before we can even see, we are enveloped by the welcoming arms of our mother. As we nestle into her body, feel the steadiness of her heartbeat, breathe her smell, we embed ourselves with her as our beacon. Her body, her voice, her skin, her touch become the way we orient ourselves as we make our personal journey through infancy, childhood and beyond. And touch is among the most crucial of these elements, not only providing us, in the case of loving touch, with a sense of security and ease in our bodies, but shaping our biology and our neurocircuitry in ways that will affect our tempers and our personalities throughout our lives.”

“Yes, I am your mother, but for all that, you seem to me like a scourge. I ask myself what I have ever done to be dragged down into the depths by my daughter. And your father—what had he ever done? And you have presumed to use the word love in connection with this—with these lusts of your body; these unnatural cravings of your unbalanced mind and undisciplined body—you have used that word.”

“When Tanya thinks about the kind of mother she wants to be, she knows she wants to be different from her own. She wants to be the kind of parent who never lets her child see any of her own sadness or anger or loneliness, because she knows how much it hurts to see that in your own mother. How stifling it can be; how impossible it becomes to have any of your own feelings. She knows it's impossible, though. That if she tries to mask all of that from her child, she'll just be hiding. And the truth is–children are smarter than that. They'd see right through her. Really what she wants to be is a mother who isn't in pain. She wonders if such a woman exists.”

“Let us question why we are losing so many teenage girls and young women to an ideology that encourages them to discard all things that represent womanhood and motherhood. Moms are often thrown out, along with the young women’s healthy breast tissue. Being a woman is a gift if not rejected.”

“Странно, — прибавила Фиа с искренним недоумением, — для меня всегда было загадкой, что он в тебе особенное нашел… что ж, наверно, все матери немножко слепы и не понимают своих дочерей, пока не состарятся и не перестанут завидовать их молодости. Ты так же плохо понимаешь Джастину, как я плохо понимала тебя.”

“Even today, with no spaces left on the shelves and walls, my octo-genarian mother builds stock off fanciful garden decor: a patch of copper whirligigs among the crepe myrtles, concrete tortoises creeping around the succulents, a ceramic Mediterranean pot that could house a small family.”