Look Like My Mom Quotes & Sayings

I have my sources." Somehow, saying I'd heard it from my mom sounded less cool. "You've decided, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as she's going to give you fringe benefits ... "
He gave me a level look. "What happens between her and me is none of your business," he replied crisply.
...
Dimitri arched an eyebrow, then jerked his head back where we'd come from. "You hang out in his room a lot?"
Several retorts popped into my head, and then a golden one took precedence. "What happens between him and me is none of your business." I managed a tone very similar to he one he'd used on me when making a similar comment about him and Tasha. — Richelle Mead

Not all babies are cute when they're born no matter how many new parents try to convince you otherwise. This is yet another lie the half-baked "theys" lead you to believe. Some babies are born looking like old men with wrinkled faces, age spots, and a receding hairline. When I was born, my father George took my hospital picture over to his friend Tim's house while my mom was still recuperating in the hospital. Tim took one look at my picture and said, "Oh sweet Jesus, George. You better hope she's smart." It was no different with my son, Gavin. He was funny looking. I was his mother, so I could say that. He had a huge head, no hair, and his ears stuck out so far I often wondered if they worked like the Whisper 2000, and he was able to pick up conversations from a block away. — Tara Sivec

I can't remember the words she spoke when they finally opened the garage door and yanked me inside, but I was petrified. It wasn't sound Mom's screams or the jolt of her grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me like a rag doll that plagues my memory, but the look of her eyes- wide, wild, and unrecognizable. — Maggie Young

My mom's like me and she doesn't want to look weak in front of other people. And she's like Colby in the way that she has to take hits at other people whenever she feels threatened. That used to make me want to cave and do what she wants. But it doesn't anymore. — M-E Girard

Imagine saying to someone, "I have a kidney problem, and I'm having a lot of bad days lately." Nothing but sympathy, right? "What's wrong?" "My mom had that!" "Text me a pic of the ultrasound!" Then pretend to say, "I have severe depression and anxiety, and I'm having a lot of bad days lately." They just look at you like you're broken, right? Unfixable. Inherently flawed. Maybe not someone they want to hang around as much? Yeah, society sucks. My mental problems made me feel ashamed. I felt like I had to hide them until I could "work through it" on my own. Which I never did, because I didn't know how. And I didn't feel brave enough to make fixing my mind a priority because I didn't think anyone would understand. — Felicia Day

I remember seeing Extreme play with [Debra] Winger and Cinderella. Gary Cherone was wearing purple velvet overalls with no shirt and saddle oxfords.Afterward, I went home and told my mom, "I need to find saddle oxfords." And she said, "Like little girls wear?" Naturally, I couldn't find them in my size, so I went to a shoemaker and had him make me a pair. I wore them for a while, but they didn't seem as cool on me, because when your foot is size 12, they sort of look like clown shoes. — Patrick Wilson

Clubs rattled behind them. Skeet Cooper rubbed the corner of his mouth with his thumb and rose from the bench. "Looks like Kenny's caddy's here."
Dallie lifted an eyebrow as his son stepped up on the tee carrying Kenny's bag.
Ted smiled. "Sorry I'm late. Mom made me eat breakfast. Then she started fussing with my hair, don't ask me why."
Dallie took the driver Skeet handed him. "Funny you didn't mention that you were going to caddy for Kenny today."
"Must have forgot." Ted smiled and shifted the bag. "I told Skeet."
Dallie shot Skeet an annoyed look that didn't bother Skeet one bit. Kenny gestured toward the tee. "Be my guest. I believe in showing respect for the elderly and the infirm. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

I'll always remember being called by my mother who beckoned me to look at the screen where a young man was being tortured by the church. Bag over his head, rolling on the ground, crying, suffocating, vomiting while the congression continues yelling chants, "God will save you!" treating him like the devil's child.

It was the first time I've ever doubted God. First time I've ever heard the terms 'Gays, and 'Queers.' I went through a lot in my childhood, but this was the first I've ever been so traumatized. My mom tells me they deserved it and the church tries to justify their actions as if it was the most intelligent excuse in the world. At 12 years old, I knew only one thing. I would never be like them. — Merlin

What I do love is the traveling ... and getting paid for it! I like being in front of a camera ... It's an outlet. It's fun! If you look through my photo album, they are all modeling poses. My mom was a young mom, so she took tons of pictures of me. — Crystal Lowe

You're right. You and Millie look more like your mom," I said...
"That's because we spent more time with her," Henry said seriously, as if it were common knowledge, as if resemblances were based on nurture instead of nature. It was true, to a point. Mannerisms, quirks, style. All those things could be learned and copied.
"So if I spend a lot of time with Kathleen, do you think she'll start to look like me?" I asked him, steering the focus away from his father.
Henry looked doubtfully from me to my grunting, banana-bearded child and back again.
"I hope so," he said.
Georgia snickered, and I hooted and held my hand in the air so Henry could give me five.
"You hear that, Georgia? Henry hopes so," I crowed. "I guess that means your baby daddy is a beautiful man."
Henry obviously didn't mean to be funny, and he totally left me hanging. Georgia reached up and slapped my hand and winked at me. — Amy Harmon

I wondered what the FML post would look like.
"Today, when my father tried to shoot me, I found out he was an assassin monger who's been keeping my mom locked away in a secret facility for freaky killers. FML."
Seriously. F.M.L. — Jus Accardo

Being on that pitcher's mound, it's the one thing I'm really good at. The one thing I haven't fucked up. And when I'm on the field, everything else fades away. You know?" He turned to look at me, his eyes craving understanding.
I smiled and he continued. "It's like my mind is clear when I'm out there. It's not about my mom or my dad or the stupid shit I've done. It's about me, the ball, and the batter. It's the one place in the world where I feel like I'm in control. Like I have a say in what happens around me."
I stopped my head from nodding in agreement once I realized that I was doing it. "I feel that way when I'm taking pictures. Anything that I'm not seeing through my lens fades away in the background. And I get to frame my picture any way I choose. I get to dictate how it looks. What's in it. What isn't. Behind that lens I have complete control in how things are seen."
He smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks. "You get it. — J. Sterling

I park my bike in her driveway and ring her doorbell. I clear my throat so I don't choke on my words. Mierda, what am I gonna say to her? And why am I feeling all insecure, like I need to impress her because she'll judge me?
Nobody answers. I ring again.
Where's a servant or butler to answer the door when you need one? Just as I'm about to give up and slap myself with a big dose of what-the-fuck-do-I-think-I'm-doing, the door opens. Standing before me is an older version of Brittany. Obviously her mom. When she takes one look at me, her disappointing sneer is obvious.
"Can I help you?" she asks with an attitude. I sense either she expects me to be part of the gardening crew or someone going door-to-door harassing people. "We have a 'no soliciting policy' in this neighborhood."
"I'm, uh, not here to solicit anythin'. My name's Alex. I just wanted to know if Brittany was, uh, at home?" Oh, great. Now I'm mumbling uh's every two seconds. — Simone Elkeles

Something my mom likes to say when she's up on her equal-opportunity soapbox floats through my head: People have enough reasons not to like you just based on how you look; don't give them any more based on how you act. — Una LaMarche

Surgery has warped the faces of every woman over thirty; they don't look younger, just not quite human in a way society has decided to pretend not to see. Half of the people are talking more to the holograms from their rings or badges than they are to the people around them. What conversation I can hear is mostly gossip: who's shagging who, who's making money, who's losing it, who's not invited to the next party like this. Maybe the technology is different, but the shallowness of the scene is probably universal. So this is the life my father escaped when he chose to go into science, to leave Great Britain and join Mom in California. He was even smarter than I knew. — Claudia Gray

When she sat back, she nearly dropped the cotton ball in surprise: What had Isabelle done to her? Her cheekbones looked sharp and angular, her eyes deep-set, mysterious, and a luminous green.

"I look like my mom," she said in surprise.

Isabelle raised her eyebrows. "What? Too middle-aged? Maybe some more glitter - — Cassandra Clare

Nick:"Make me immortal." Ash wasn't charmed. "Look, Nick, I don't like talking about my powers and not a lot of people know what I can do. I'm trusting you with a secret and I expect you to keep it. If you can't ... " He tilted his head down as if he was looking at him over the rim of his sunglasses. "Well, I'm sure your mom's going to miss you." "Not half as much as I'd miss me if you killed me." He blinked like a girl and leaned against Ash's shoulder. "Please don't hurt me, Ash. Please. I don't want to die while I'm still a virgin. At least let me get laid before you kill me - which according to my mom I can't do until I'm married and I can't do that until I finish college. So you have to wait a good ten years before you snuff me. Deal?" Nick, CoN Infinity — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Remind me again-why do you hate me so much?"
I don't hate you."
Could've fooled me."
She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."
Why?"
She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."
They must really like olives."
Oh, forget it."
Now, if she'd invented pizza-that I could understand. — Rick Riordan

I'm proud of what I look like. I'm proud that I look like my mom. — Lisa Guerrero

My mom tries to comfort me by saying that girls like Heather Campbell tend to peak early in life and then quickly fade. That's why she looks so much better than everyone now. But by the time I go to my ten-year reunion, I'll be way prettier than she is. To which I always reply with the same statement, "I don't want to be pretty in ten years. I want to be pretty now."
Because what good is it to me now that I might or might not be drop-dead gorgeous when I'm twenty-seven? It's not like I can go to school every day with a big cardboard sign around my neck that says, "Trust me, in ten years, I'll look like this." And then an arrow pointing to a picture of a supermodel. — Jessica Brody

Look at that skirt," my mother said when she opened the door to me. "It's no wonder we have so much crime today what with these short skirts. How can you sit in a skirt like that? Everyone can see everything."
"It's two inches above my knee. It's not that short. — Janet Evanovich

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table. She'd set her coffee down, making a noise that made me look her way. I'd begun to notice her less and less often, like her colors were fading and blending in with walls. She was shrinking. Or maybe her sphere of influence in the family was shrinking. My dad glanced at her, too, and then wrote something on a napkin.
He slid it across the counter to me - Don't worry. Come home in one piece. Have fun and act like a sixteen-year-old for a change. — Laura Anderson Kurk

Thanks to my mother, I was raised to have a morbid imagination. When I was a child, she often talked about death as warning, as an unavoidable matter of fact. Little Debbie's mom down the block might say, 'Honey, look both ways before crossing the street.' My mother's version: 'You don't look, you get smash flat like sand dab.' (Sand dabs were the cheap fish we bought live in the market, distinguished in my mind by their two eyes affixed on one side of their woebegone cartoon faces.)
The warnings grew worse, depending on the danger at hand. Sex education, for example, consisted of the following advice: 'Don't ever let boy kiss you. You do, you can't stop. Then you have baby. You put baby in garbage can. Police find you, put you in jail, then you life over, better just kill youself. — Amy Tan

Tattitude: Wow, Jeff, who's the babe?
Dangerous_pie: Your mom.
Tattitude: No, the one three feet away from you.
Dangerous_pie: Oh, that's Lindsey Abraham. I had her flown in from California for my personal amusement. You can look at her if you want, though.
Tattitude: Sweet. But have you talked to her yet?
Dangerous_pie: Uh-huh. We're really close.
Tattitude: Intro me?
Dangerous_pie: After class.
Tattitude: Duh.
Just then, I noticed that a large shadow had fallen over my screen. I couldn't even bear to look up as Mr. Laurenzano said, "Thaddeus Ibsen, Lindsey Abraham. Lindsey, Thaddeus. There, you've been introduced. NOW can I teach some science?"
Wow, it looked like this was going to be my year for unusual teachers. — Jordan Sonnenblick

They say that true love always brings with it great and generous acts. Sometimes, amazing things happen to people and nobody knows about it. Nobody knows or cares. Someday many years from now in the faraway future, I will look back and say, "That year when I was in seventh grade, I knew a boy named Henderson Elliot, and what he did for me was extraordinary and who he was and how he won my heart was nothing short of incredible."
Some people in peril don't get saved, like Marty Hoey or my mom, and some people in peril do get saved, like me. Maybe it was because Henderson bought a chunk of a falling star, a gold-flecked quiet and ever-hopeful star. I hold it now tightly in my palm. — Phoebe Stone

My mom's the one I look up to for everything. I feel like I'm a lump of clay and she's moulding me into a woman. — Chloe Grace Moretz

Sometimes, in the stillness of my room, my mom's voice came to me, repeating things she'd said for months. Like, "My skin is melting off my face, isn't it?" And, "My whole body feels dead from the crap they're pouring into me. Do I look green to you?" And, "When I'm naked, I can see my heart beating. — Laura Anderson Kurk

My mom's younger sister was born with Down syndrome. I was close to my grandmother when I was growing up. I remember talking to my grandmother about politics, and she told me that she regularly voted for the Democrats because she knew that they were going to look out for people like her daughter. That made an impression on me, too. — Josh Earnest

Now my mom designs to resign so she runs for US senate, and now at 67 my mom just launched a new company called Women's Leadership Live, she is the cofounder and CEO, and it's all about empowering women to be successful in business however they define success. When you have a role model like that you really don't ever look at gender as an issue and it's about owning your place and taking charge of your role, regardless of what you look like. — Stephanie McMahon

My mom, she's like Why can't you just do a nice romantic comedy like Jennifer Love Hewitt? And I'm like: Mom, look at me. They just don't put me in those movies. — Norman Reedus

You call me castoff," Mahlia said, "Chinese throwaway, whatever." Amaya was trying to look away, but Mahlia had her pinned, kept her eye to eye. "My old man might have been peacekeeper, but my mom was pure Drowned Cities. You want to war like that, I'm all in." Mahlia lifted the scarred stump of her right hand, shoved it up in Amaya's face. "Maybe I cut you the way the Army of God cut me. See how you do with just a lucky left. How'd you like that? — Paolo Bacigalupi

Positive. In other news, Marcie's throwing a Halloween party here at the farmhouse."
Patch smiled. "Grey - Millar family drama?"
"The theme is famous couples from history. Could she be any less original? Worse, she's roped my mom into this. They went shopping for decorations today. For three whole hours. It's like they're suddenly best friends." I picked up another apple slice and made a face at it. "Marcie is ruining everything. I wanted Scott to go with Vee, but Marcie already convinced him to go with her." Patch's smile widened.
I aimed my best sulky look at him. "This isn't funny. Marcie is destroying my life. Whose side are you on anyway?"
Patch raised his hands in surrender. "I'm staying out of this. — Becca Fitzpatrick

We were little children, four or five years old, but they were all around the house and they made us look epic, like we were part of some story being told. My mom would have this woman come to our house and take photos of us. She did a photo book of us as well when I was one. I still have it. — Jeff Vespa

But there's this thing in her voice, like what my mom called "doublespeak." Saying one thing and meaning another. Aunt Nora told me it was leftover from English rule. She said, "That's the only good thing to ever come of colonialism, Kevin. The Irish can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you look forward to the trip. — Brian Malloy

Derrick?
I look back in the rearview mirror and see my little brother, Tyson, staring back at me with an expression on his face that I can't quite identify. Usually, he reserves calling me Derrick for when he is about to ask something serious, like if there is a planet of cows that have farms that milk people, then slaughter them for their tasty cutlets, or why mom left and didn't come back. He asks a lot of questions. — T.J. Klune

I love my body as it is. People in the industry have been telling me to lose weight for years but I like the way I look. I give credit to my mom for helping me feel good about my appearance - for making sure I never felt embarrassed about my body, because she was never worried about looking too big. — Christina Hendricks

I like your mama,' Trena tells me. 'She seems like good people.'
'Smile!' my mom calls to me from across the room, and I look at her and smile. Because she is good people. And she means well, even if she does drive me crazy. — Frances O'Roark Dowell

For what it's worth, I'll share my intentions. You and me, we aren't practice for the real thing. It isn't that too much is at stake with family and friends, it's because I love you. You're funny, beautiful and you care about people. I like the way you look at me, especially when you think I don't notice it. I like that we have history and our kids will have a big family and share that history because there was never a time when their Mom and Dad weren't together. If you were a terrible lay, I might have second thoughts but you and I are dynamite together. I intend to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. If that freaks you out, tough, because now we've started this, there's no goin' back. — Kristen Ashley

My mom made the trays out of kits she bought at Michaels. She's crackled the shit out of them so they look like they're covered in diseased rhino skins. — Susan Juby

I don't like looking at awards everyday because I feel like they can make you lazy. So, I give them to my Mom and let her look at it everyday. They are symbols of the hard work she put into me. Her sacrifices allowed me and my team to win those awards. But I don't look at any awards everyday. — Tyra Banks

am an Addict's Mom. I am an Addict's Mom. I stand before you able to state without hesitation that Yes, I am an addict's mom. I have learned to look past those judgmental stares, sensing what you are thinking, that I must be "one of those Moms." That somewhere, somehow, I made some horrific choices that sent my child into the depths of hell. I am here to tell you that the choices my child made are his own and his alone. This nightmare is far from what I wanted for my child. Just like everyone with children, there were big dreams and hopes for my child. — Joe Herzanek

My mom and dad will look at me and my husband, and they're like 'I feel so sorry for this child! He's not eating fish sticks and pizza!' I'm like, 'We try to give it to him, but he doesn't wanna eat it!' — Tia Mowry

But Max said: "Last summer I spent working these peace booths at state fairs. We'd go around in this bigole pickup with this knocked-down booth in the back and boxes of literature. People'd come up to me and hear me talking about colonialism or the bomb or who was responsible for the Cold War, and they'd start railing on Communists. Communists, these damn Communists. And I'd say hey, hold on now, you're talkin' about my mother. They'd look at me like I'd turned into a Russky before their very eyes. It certainly shut 'em up." He smiled to remember, delighted. "They were good people. Country people. Didn't want to say anything bad about a fellow's mom." Saul — John Crowley

The first time I shared my music and style with my mom, she said, 'Boy, you look like you came right out of the 1950s.' — Leon Bridges

There was a point in my teenage years, when we were starting to play bigger shows and females were running after tour buses and all that, and my mom - and I remember this like it was yesterday - said: "Look, I want you to know that I couldn't be prouder of you. You are extraordinary. You move people. But it doesn't make you better than them. You still put your pants on the same way as them, one leg at a time every morning." I thought about learning to jump right into them, just to mess with her. But what she said stuck with me, and I think it's true. — Justin Timberlake

Dear five-year-old, What the fuck is wrong with you? Normal children don't have dead imaginary friends. Normal children don't pick open every single one of their chicken pox scabs and then stand naked and bleeding in the darkened doorway to their bedroom until someone walks past and asks what they are doing. Furthermore, normal children don't respond by saying, "I wanted to know what all my blood would look like." Normal children also don't watch their parents sleep from the corner of the room. Mom was really scarred by The Exorcist when she was younger, and she doesn't know how to cope with your increasingly creepy behavior. Please stop. Please, please stop. — Allie Brosh

My mom raised me as if there were no limitations on where I could go or what I could do. When I look back I realize she raised me like a white kid - not white culturally, but in the sense of believing that the world was my oyster, that I should speak up for myself, that my ideas and thoughts and decisions mattered. — Trevor Noah

There are Katy-Perry-in-concert-type pieces that I look at and am like, 'This dress has a hundred cupcakes on it - I want it!' My mom will always talk me down. — Ireland Baldwin

I built a leprechaun trap that was made to look like a tiny hotel. There was a ramp where the leprechaun could walk into the hotel, see a Lego pot of gold on the other side, try to reach it, fall through a trap door, go through a tube, wind up in a biscuit tin, and be trapped. My mom, encouraging my madness, told me that the leprechaun might escape and that I needed a shot glass of whiskey down there to keep him occupied while he was in there. — Alex Hirsch

My mom made me think I was gorgeous. When I was younger she was like, 'Look at you! You're an angel. You sparkle!' And I was like, 'I do!' You believe your parents. — Amy Schumer

My mom used to tell me: 'It's not what you weigh; it's what you look like.' — Gina Carano

I don't spend a lot of time online. My mother's really good at picking out if she sees a really great review, and she'll forward it to me. She's like my little Internet filter. It's always nice to see something going up; if I want to find something on Nathan Fillion, I do know where to look, but I've got a nice little delivery system in my mom. — Nathan Fillion

The front door slammed and Dad said, "Aurora, sure you aren't expecting a package?"
I leaned back to find him army-crawling under the window in the living room. Like all dads do. "Already told you no, Rambo."
"The new mailman is back." Dad reached up and pulled the curtains closed before standing up and peeking out. "Won't come to the door."
"M shot a tranquillizer dart at the last guy." Mom gave a tired look at M who shrugged unapologetically. "The fact that there's a new one willing to be on our sidewalk is a miracle. Don't scare him off, Clyde."
Dad tried to block me when I went for the curtains. "He won't let me sign for your package. Demanded you come out in person."
"I'll get my tranq gun!" M made for her room.
"Don't you dare!" Mom chased her.
I swished back the curtains to get a look at the petrifying postman.
"I find his interest in my teenage daughter creepy," Dad grumbled.
Oh, he had no idea. — A&E Kirk

You two look like salt and pepper shakers. That's what my mom use to say when we both had long hair. You're a couple of salt and pepper shakers. And now here I was, just a stupid lonely pepper shaker. What was the point of a pepper shaker without a salt shaker? I didn't even like pepper. — Melissa Kantor

He immediately started charming my mom until she was nothing but a gooey puddle in the middle of the foyer.
He loved her new haircut.She got one?I guessed her hair did look different.Like she'd washed it or something.Daemon told her that the diamond earrings were beautiful.The rug below the steps was really nice.And that leftover scent of mystery dinner - because I still hadn't figured out what she fed me - smelled divine.He admired nurses worldwide,and by that point,I couldn't keep my eye rolls to a minimum.
Daemon was ridiculous. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I can't watch myself in interviews. I feel like I look like a wreck. My mom is always calling me and going, 'Stop fidgeting,' and it's like, 'You have no idea what it's like, Mom.' — Jesse Eisenberg

Lance told me his father didn't think much of him. "He wishes I was better. More better. At everything. I don't do anything right, you know, Stevie. Nothing." He said this matter-of-factly. He believed it as truth. Polly told me her father never said anything nice to her, but she kept trying as hard as she could to make him pay her some attention. "He always says, 'Don't get fat as your mother has,' but I don't think Mom's fat at all, but I try not to eat much, but he keeps saying it to me. Do you think I'm fat, Stevie? When my hair is messy do you think I look like a stray... — Cathy Lamb

Serving others also requires a talent for observation," Hawke murmurs in my ear. "She'll approach the table to her right next, ask the woman in the red shirt if she'd like her bill." My mom does exactly that, her lips moving as she gathers the dirty dishes. The customer nods and pulls her wallet out of her no-name vinyl purse. "How did you know she'd do that?" I ask. "I look for threats. You look for fashions." He splays his fingers over me, his grip thrillingly secure. "Your mom looks for needs her customers might have." "Everyone sees what they want to see," I conclude. "The average person sees very little." Hawke pushes me toward the counter. "Very few of us pay attention. — Cynthia Sax

I would think you'd have better things to do right now than look up the marital status of my ex-boyfriends on the Internet," Mom had said to him, scathingly.
"I like to keep track of their mating habits," Dad had smirked. — Meg Cabot

I remember one Fourth of July evening in Philadelphia, about a year after my surgery. I was walking home arm in arm with Lisa, my lover at the time, after the fireworks display. We were leaning in to one another, walking like lovers walk. Coming towards us was a family of five: mom, dad, and three teenage boys. "Look it's a coupla faggots," said one of the boys. "Nah, it's two girls," said another. "That's enough outa you," bellowed the father, "one of 'em's got to be a man. This is America! — Kate Bornstein

Catherine. " She swept by me without a hug. Okay, that was familiar, too. "You really should wear something warmer, it's freezing out. "
Hello to you, too, Mom. Or whoever the hell you are, because you sure don't look like the woman who raised me.
123 "You should talk, " I managed. "I can see all the way up to your thigh. My God, if Grandma saw you now, she'd come right out of her grave!"
My mother opened her mouth, paused, and then smiled. "I won't tell if you won't. "
I was going directly to the kitchen to fall to my knees in awe before Rodney. Lo and behold, he'd managed to give her a sense of humor, and here I'd figured that would take voodoo, several headless chickens, and a lot of gris-gris. — Jeaniene Frost

Words define us,' Mom continued, as I struggled to make my clumsy marks look like her elegant script. 'We must protect our knowledge and pass it on whenever we can. If we are ever to become a society again, we must teach others how to remain human. — Julie Kagawa

Mom! Look. This one is my favorite," Devin said, pulling out a faded pink dress with a red plaid sash. The crinoline petticoat underneath was so old and stiff it made snapping sounds, like beads or fire embers. She dropped the dress over her head, over her clothes. It brushed the floor. "When I'm old enough for it to fit me, I'm going to wear it with purple shoes," she said.
"A bold choice," Kate said as Devin dove back into the trunk. The attic in Kate's mother's house had always fascinated Devin with its promise of hidden treasures. When Kate's mother had been alive, she had let Devin eat Baby Ruth candy bars and drink grape soda and play in this old trunk full of dresses that generations of Morris women had worn to try entice rich men to marry them. Most of the clothes had belonged to Kate's grandmother Marilee, a renowned beauty who, like all the rest, had fallen in love with a poor man instead. — Sarah Addison Allen

I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror as we glided p. I looked as eroded as the groaning lift. What had happened to the fresh-faced belle from Boston, Mass.? The woman who stared back at me was at the dreaded age between forty-five and fifty, that no-man's land of sag, oncoming wrinkle, and stealthy approach of menopause.
"I hate this elevator, too," I said grimly.
Zoe grinned and pinched my cheek.
"Mom, even Gwyneth Paltrow would look like hell in that mirror."
I had to smile. That was such a Zoe-like remark. — Tatiana De Rosnay

This is a nice metaphor, too, about mothers and daughters - that when it came time for me to make my own, I was making a completely different garden than the one that my mom has. They don't look like they came from relatives. Hers is a very productive and pragmatic vegetable garden, and mine is a ridiculous overabundance of useless plants. It doesn't feed anybody, it doesn't serve any purpose. — Elizabeth Gilbert

I put my hands on my hips. "What's wrong with the way I look?"
"Come on, Vi," he says, keeping his voice low. "You just need to add your boots and you're like the forest version of Lara Croft."
"Excuse me? Lara who?"
"I mean, it's really sexy and everything." He pulls me closer and slips his arms around my waist. "But it's not exactly the way I'd want you to meet my mom. — Rachel Morgan

EMMA: Ah. There you are. You - little
John Sublime: Shhuhh ... Hup. Don't. Please ... My mom met your parents in the Hamptons ... I ... I go through agonies of conscience every time we have to hurt one of you beautiful creatures ... Emma ... I'm doing God's will ...
EMMA: Shut up! I am very cross about this! Very very very cross indeed! I look like a bloody heavyweight boxer! — Grant Morrison

All right," I tell Gray, "you make an admirable lasagna. It's not as good as my mom's, but it will do."

"Don't kill me with praise now." Gray laughs then shakes his head. "I'm not trying to beat your Italian momma in a lasagna cook-off, Jones. That's just crazy talk." His brows waggle. "But I accept the compliment."

Drew snorts. The sound sudden and harsh. "'Jones'?" Jones is his nickname for me. But I hadn't thought he'd be territorial. He levels a look at Gray, and my chest grows tight. "And here I thought you didn't like my girl. — Kristen Callihan

I'm very loyal in a relationship. Any relationship. When I go out with my mom, I don't look at other moms and go, "I wonder what her macaroni and cheese tastes like." — Garry Shandling

She's my mom and she's never seen me this happy before. Of course, she thinks I love you."
I braved a look at him. "And do you?"
"If I deny it, will you be able to get through dinner?"
I nodded, ignoring the thin veil of his words over the truth I didn't want to accept. "Then I don't love you. You're the most aggravating woman I've ever met. I can barely tolerate you."
"And my kids?"
"Oh, no," he chuckled. "I definitely love them."
"You do?" An aching affection flooded my body, filling in all of the cracks that fear and uncertainty had left me with. An emotional heat bubbled in my chest and wrapped my stiff limbs with something like hope.
"Yes, I do. But they agree with me about you. You aggravate us all. — Rachel Higginson

Ouch," he said.
"Move your foot."
"No."
"Go away."
"Glad to see you, too."
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"You missed the bus," he said.
"I'm sick."
"Need chicken soup?"
"Actually, it's my period," I lied. "Killer cramps."
"Chocolate and a heating pad?"
"How do you know that?"
"I have an older sister and my mom is a kick-ass feminist," he said. "I'm probably the only guy in school who can buy tampons without having a seizure. Look, at that, I can even say the word. 'Tampon, tampon, tampon.' If you say it enough, it stops sounding like a word, know what I mean? — Laurie Halse Anderson

Were you just smoking and chewing tobacco at the same time?"
"What are you my mom?"
"Do I look like I blow truckers for food stamps? — Ransom Riggs

There's a reason I always look nice when I go to work." I kept a scowl on my face while she hustled me upstairs.
"Because you'll get fired if you look like a slob?"
"Because, my little grouch, it makes me feel better on the inside if I like how I look on the outside. — Stephie Davis

My mother's mouth drops. 'Emmy...don't say those things Emmy. Remember, we don't talk about those things.'

'Yes Mom. I remember. That's why I'm here, looking like this.'

An orderly knocks on the door and announces that visiting time is over.

My mother and I look at each other awkwardly, and hug.

'I love you,' she says.

'I love you too, Mom.'

'You aren't telling them too much are you?' she asks, afraid.

I sign. 'No Mommy, I'm not.'

She's visibly relieved. She leaves the room.

The orderley comes back and escorts me back into the main room.

I just sit and laugh to myself."

(after Emmy's suicide attempt) ~ The Finer Points of Becoming Machine — Emily Andrews

You look like a drug addict," Mom says. "It washes you out completely." "Wow. Thanks, Mom," I tell her, swallowing the lump her words bring up in my throat. "I can always count on you to build up my self-confidence." "Would you feel better if I lied to you?" Mom asks. "Okay, fine. You look like Miss America. There, happy? — Sarah Darer Littman