Home
Authors
Topics
Quote of the Day
Home
Authors
Topics
Quote of the Day
Home
Authors
Topics
Quote of the Day
Top 100 Quotes
Professions
Nationalities
Mother And Daughter Quotes
Popular Topics
Love Quotes
Life Quotes
Inspirational Quotes
Philosophy Quotes
Humor Quotes
Wisdom Quotes
God Quotes
Truth Quotes
Happiness Quotes
Hope Quotes
Did you get rid of that sweater like I asked?""Yes, Mother," Josey said."I wasn't trying to be mean the other day. It just doesn't look good on you.""Yes, Mother," Josey said.The truth was, that sweater, that color, looked good on her daughter. And every time she wore it, it hinted at something that scared Margaret.Josey was growing into her beauty.Margaret watched Josey leave.She used to be a beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman around.She brought out the photo again.But that was forever ago.
Sarah Addison Allen
I said to my mother, Henry VII is interesting. No he's not, my mother said.
Hilary Mantel
But I realize now that the toughest choices, the ones that will haunt us for the rest of our lives, are ones that my mom is still sheltering me from.
Susan Ee
The students adore your father,' a perfumed woman said to me. 'Aren't you lucky to live with such a charming man!''He's even more charming at home,' Mom said. 'Isn't he, Bea? He rides a unicycle through the house -''- even up and down the stairs,' I added.'He juggles eggs as he makes breakfast every morning -''- which he serves to us in bed of course,' I said.'- and pulls fragrant bouquets out of his ass,' Mom finished.'He's just a joy.
Natalie Standiford
once ruffle-skirted vanity table where I primped at thirteen, opening drawers to a private chaos of eyeshadows lavender teal sky-blue, swarms of hair pins pony tail fasteners, stashes of powders, colonies of tiny lipsticks (p.39)
Barbara Blatner
When Paxton was a teenager, her friends had even envied her relationship with her mother. Everyone knew that neither Paxton nor Sophia scheduled anything on Sunday afternoons, because that was popcorn-and-pedicures time, when mother and daughter sat in the family room and watched sappy movies and tried out beauty products. And Paxton could remember her mother carrying dresses she'd ordered into her bedroom, almost invisible behind tiers of taffeta, as they'd planned for formal dances. She'd loved helping Paxton pick out what to wear. And her mother had exquisite taste. Paxton could still remember dresses her mother wore more than twenty-five years ago. Imprinted in her memory were shiny blue ones, sparkly white ones, wispy rose-colored ones.
Sarah Addison Allen
Work and happiness are like mother and daughter; work brings forth happiness, but hard work brings forth great happiness!
Israelmore Ayivor
Be a hard worker. Work and happiness are like mother and daughter. Work brings forth happiness. Hard work brings great happiness. Enjoy life.
Israelmore Ayivor
STAINSWith red clay between my toes,and the sun setting over my head,the ghost of my mother blows in,riding on a honeysuckle breeze, oh lord,riding on a honeysuckle breeze.Her teeth, the keys of a piano.I play her grinning ivory noteswith cadenced fumbling fingers,splattered with paint, textured with scars.A song rises up from the belly of my pastand rocks me in the bosom of buried memories.My mama’s dress bears the stains of her life:blueberries, blood, bleach, and breast milk;She cradles in her arms a lifetime of love and sorrow;Its brilliance nearly blinds me.My fingers tire, as though I've played this song for years.The tune swells red, dying around the edges of a setting sun.A magnolia breeze blows in strong, a heavenly taxi sent to carry my mother home. She will not say goodbye.For there is no truth in spoken farewells.I am pregnant with a poem,my life lost in its stanzas.My mama steps out of her dressand drops it, an inheritance falling to my feet.She stands alone: bathed, blooming,burdened with nothing of this world.Her body is naked and beautiful,her wings gray and scorched,her brown eyes piercing the brown of mine.I watch her departure, her flapping wings:She doesn’t look back, not even once,not even to whisper my name: Brenda.I lick the teeth of my piano mouth.With a painter’s hands,with a writer’s handswith rusty wrinkled hands,with hands soaked in the joys,the sorrows, the spillsof my mother’s life,I pick up eighty-one years of stainsAnd pull her dress over my head.Her stains look good on me.
Brenda Sutton Rose
Related Topics
Life
Quotes
Memories
Quotes
Mother And Child
Quotes
Southern Literature
Quotes
History
Quotes
Josey Cirrini
Quotes
Happiness
Quotes
Sophia Osgood
Quotes