Mother Maria Quotes & Sayings

The first day I came I remarked to Miss Maria that it looked a little like rain - and Miss Maria laughed. I said the road from the station was very pretty - and Miss Maria laughed. I said there seemed to be a few mosquitoes left yet - and Miss Maria laughed. I said that Prospect Point was as beautiful as ever - and Miss Maria laughed. If I were to say to Miss Maria, 'My father has hanged himself, my mother has taken poison, my brother is in the penitentiary, and I am in the last stages of consumption,' Miss Maria would laugh. She can't help it - she was born so; but is very sad and awful. The — L.M. Montgomery

My mother never learned English, but in Russia, the greatest thing was to give a child to the arts. And so they gave me to the ballet. — Maria Karnilova

My mother told me when I was a kid that each time we get to what feels like the edge of a cliff, we have two choices: to turn around and run, or to jump. I have learned over time to jump - and though it is scary, I know somewhere inside me that I will be caught. — Maria Bello

It's pretty hard being a tennis player and Mother Theresa at the same time and that's just the way it is. — Maria Sharapova

But not you, O girl, nor yet his
mother,
stretched his eyebrows so fierce with
expectation.
Not for your mouth, you who hold him
now,
did his lips ripen into these fervent
contours.
Do you really think your quiet
footsteps
could have so convulsed him, you who
move like dawn wind?
True, you startled his heart; but older
terrors
rushed into him with that first jolt
to his emotions.
Call him . . . you'll never quite
retrieve him from those dark consorts.
Yes, he wants to, he escapes; relieved,
he makes a home
in your familiar heart, takes root
there and begins himself anew.
But did he ever begin himself? — Rainer Maria Rilke

To My Mother First published : 1849 A heartful sonnet written to Poe's mother-in-law and aunt Maria Clemm, "To My Mother" says that the mother of the woman he loved is more important than his own mother. It was first published on July 7, 1849 in Flag of Our Union. It has alternately been published as "Sonnet to My Mother." Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of "Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called you - You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you In setting my Virginia's spirit free. My mother - my own mother, who died early, Was but the mother of myself; but you Are mother to the one I loved so dearly, And thus are dearer than the mother I knew By that infinity with which my wife Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life. — Edgar Allan Poe

It can't be good news," Leif said. "I'd doubt you would brave the weather just to say hello."
"You opened the door before I could knock," I said. "You must know something's up."
Leif wiped the rain from his face. "I smelled you coming."
"Smelled?"
"You reek of Lavender. Do you bathe in Mother's perfume or just wash your cloak with it?" he teased.
"How mundane. I was thinking of something a little more magical. — Maria V. Snyder

I'm your mother. I see all. Hear all. Know all. — Maria V. Snyder

Remember all those things you hated about me when you were little? You hated when I sang. You hated when I danced. You really hated when I referred to that homeless guy with the dreadlocks who walked around the streets with a stack of blankets across his shoulders as "my brother." You hated when I said you were my best friend. I now agree with you on that last one. I'm not your best friend. I'm your mother. — Maria Semple

The sound of running footsteps made them all start. Then the refectory door opened and the round, freckled face of Sister Belinda appeared. She was breathing heavily, and her veil was crooked, showing short tufts of red hair sprouting around her glowing face like unruly weeds in a parched garden.
"Excuse me, Mother, Sisters," she said. "But there is a police car waiting at the gate and what looks like the Black Maria behind it. Also, another car approaching from the farm and a uniformed constable coming in via the beach path. It would appear that the filth have us surrounded. — Sharon Bolton

One snake wasn't enough. Time for Perl's suggestion. I handed everyone two capsules and a pin. "Get as close to the guards as you can. Poke a small hole in the capsule and squirt the liquid near them. Don't get it on you," I instructed.
"Why not?" Leif asked.
"You'll have a necklace snake trying to mate with you."
"Gee, Yelena. I'm so glad you're home," Leif grumbled. "It's good to know Mother is doing something useful with her time."
"I thought your mother madeperfumes," Moon Man said.
"It all depends on how you look at it — Maria V. Snyder

What strength does a mother have, and from which of her body cells does that energy come from? — Maria Tzoutzopoulou

The historian in me love to uncover things, and the mother in me hates to be lied to...[Why Dotsy investigates murder] — Maria Hudgins

Yippee. I've been promoted from fire lighter to delivery boy. I'll write a letter home to Mother. She'll be so pleased.
Leif — Maria V. Snyder

As Hector walks to the balcony, he suddenly thought of his mother. He missed her dearly as he looked up, closed his eyes and felt Maria's warm breath behind his ears, whispering the same words of wisdom she never get tired of telling him over and over again, "You are born and destined to live in this place for a reason. I don't want to see you growing as a man who only thinks about and care for, is himself." And as tears start to fall, he whispered, "Yes, my dear mother. Now I undestand. — Juan Bautista

After a couple hours of this, seven-year-old Christo was beside himself. He had never been babysat before. How long was this fuckery going to go on? His sister was hysterical. He paced around our living room, now in his shirtsleeves and black pants. Pulling his golden curls nervously, he looked like the night manager of a miniature diner who had just had a party of six dine and dash. He ranted to his baby sister in Greek, This sent my mother running into the dining room laughing hysterically. I chased her. What? What did he say? Roughly translated it was Oh! My Maria! What is to become of us? — Tina Fey

As a little girl in Arizona, none of the women in my family had a cultural connection with Girl Scouts, but the opportunity resonated with my mother as a platform that would allow me to excel in school. — Anna Maria Chavez

I hate pants. This is something I have inherited from my father. He despised pants, and my mother was never allowed to wear them at home. We're talking about a different time period now, when the man was much more the ruler of the house. But I still feel that way, and neither my mother nor Maria is allowed to go out with me in pants. — Arnold Schwarzenegger

Children must grow not only in the body but in the spirit, and the mother longs to follow the mysterious spiritual journey of the beloved one who to-morrow will be the intelligent, divine creation, man. — Maria Montessori

This is education, understood as a help to life; an education from birth, which feeds a peaceful revolution and unites all in a common aim, attracting them as to a single centre. Mothers, fathers, politicians: all must combine in their respect and help for this delicate work of formation, which the little child carries on in the depth of a profound psychological mystery, under the tutelage of an inner guide. This is the bright new hope for mankind. — Maria Montessori

An hour passes. I sit tensely and watch his every movement in case he may perhaps say something. What if he were to open his mouth and cry out! But he only weeps, his head turned aside. He does not speak of his mother or his brothers and sisters. He says nothing; all that lies behind him; he is entirely alone now with his little life of nineteen years, and cries because it leaves him. — Erich Maria Remarque

Another relative?" Valek asked.
A broad smile stretched Moon Man's lips. "Yes. I am her mother's uncle's wife's
third cousin."
Valek and Moon Man — Maria V. Snyder

From the earth, from the air, sustaining forces pour into us
mostly from the earth. To no man does the earth mean so much as to the soldier. When he presses himself down upon her long and powerfully, when he buries his face and his limbs deep in her from the fear of death by shell-fire, then she is his only friend, his brother, his mother; he stifles his terror and his cries in her silence and her security; she shelters him and releases him fro ten seconds to live, to run, ten seconds of life; receives him again and often for ever. — Erich Maria Remarque

The gift my mother gave me was the gift of possibility. From an early age, she instilled in me a belief that I could do anything I wanted to do. It wasn't a matter of, 'Can I?' or 'Should I?' It was just, 'You can, you must, you will!' She wanted me to believe that anything was possible. — Maria Shriver

At birth, the child leaves a person - his mother's womb - and this makes him independent of her bodily functions. The baby is next endowed with an urge, or need, to face the out world and to absorb it. We might say that he is born with 'the psychology of world conquest.' By absorbing what he finds about him, he forms his own personality. — Maria Montessori

Earlier this year, I'd told a mother at school I'd been married fifteen year. She asked, "What's the secret to a long marriage?" I thought for a second, then answered, "Staying married. — Maria Semple

My mother's death brought me to my knees. She was my hero, my role model, my very best friend. I spoke to her every single day of my life. I really tried hard when I grew up to make her proud of me. — Maria Shriver

Ave Maria

Ave Maria! Maiden mild!
Listen to a maiden's pleading
from these rocks, stark and wild,
my prayer shall be wafted to thee.
we shall sleep safely till morning,
though men be ever so cruel.
o Maiden, see a maiden's distress,
O Mother, hear a suppliant child.

Ave Maria, undefiled!
When we upon this rock lie down
to slumber, and they protection covers us,
The hard stone will seem soft to us.
If Though smilest, the scent of roses will float
Through this murky cavern,
O Mother, hear a child's petition,
O maiden, 'tis a maid that calls!

Ave Maria, Maiden pure,
the demons of the earth and air,
drien forth by thy gracious glance
cannot stay here with us.
we will camly bow to fate
Since they holy comfort hovers over us;
Mayest though be favourably inclined to the maiden,
To the child that pleads for her father! — Barbara Bonney

In marrying, a man does not, to be sure, marry his wife's mother; and yet a prudent man, when he begins to think of the daughter, would look sharp at the mother; ay, and back to the grandmother too, and along the whole female line of ancestry. — Maria Edgeworth

My mother has always been sickly; and though she has only gone to the hospital when she has been compelled to, it has cost a great deal of money, and my father's life has been practically given up to it. "If only I knew how much the operation costs," says he. "Have you not asked?" "Not directly. I cannot do that - the surgeon might take it amiss and that would not do; he must operate on Mother." Yes, I think bitterly, that's how it is with us, and with all poor people. They don't dare ask the price, but worry themselves dreadfully beforehand about it; but the others, for whom it is not important, they settle the price first as a matter of course. And the doctor does not take it amiss from them. — Erich Maria Remarque

If there was a party, everyone in turn would come sit next to me to regale me with how he or sh thought I should live and what I deserved to have. What it boiled down to was that I should live like them. Elvire, one half of a tightly knit couple would forget that her husband was clinically depressed. Guillaume, married to a harpy, maintained that if one laid low and said amen to everything, things worked out. Maria, fed up to the teeth with her children, wanted me to have my own. Assia loved women but it was killing her mother. Patrizio had bruises on his shoulders from his chronically jealous wife. Not one of them could stand my singleness, because it could have been theirs. — Sophie Fontanel

Dependence is not patriotism. A man does not love his mother if he hangs about her to the point of burdening her with a weak, feckless son. — Maria Montessori

The maternal duty of suckling her own children, prescribed to mothers by hygienists, is based on a physiological principle: the mother's milk nourishes an infant more perfectly than any other. — Maria Montessori

Bear well in mind that you have neither friend, nor brother, nor father, nor mother, nor spouse, nor lover, who loves you more than God. — Alfonso Maria De Liguori

I used to watch my Cuban mother getting ready singing 'Dos Gardenias,' so to me fashion has always been fun. — Maria Canals Barrera

Why did Mother ask you to help me rescue Gelsi?" I asked Leif.
"She thought I could assist you in some way. Instead, I had tried to-"
"Kill me? You can join the 'I Want to Kill Yelena Guild.' I hear they have six
members in good standing.
Valek is president since he had wanted to kill me twice."
Yelena to Leif — Maria V. Snyder

Someone once told me not to be afraid of being afraid, because, as she said, 'Anxiety is a glimpse of your own daring.' Isn't that great? It means that part of your agitation is just excitement about what you're getting ready to accomplish. Don't sell yourself short by being so afraid of failure that you don't dare to make any mistakes. Make your mistakes and learn from them. And remember: No matter how many mistakes you make, your mother always loves you! — Maria Shriver

You said I was afraid to come back to the Keep. Well - " I spread my arms wide, flinging drops of water onto Leif's green tunic " - here I am."
"You are here. I'll grant you that. But are you unafraid?"
"I already have a mother and a Story Weaver. Your job is to be the annoying older brother. Stick to what you know."
"Ohhh. I've hit a nerve. — Maria V. Snyder

You spend so much time hating the fact that April behaves more like a mother than a sister, but you're the one who's holding onto the apron strings every time she tries to cut them. — Nicola Sinclair

To no man does the earth mean so much as to the soldier. When he presses himself down upon her long and powerfully, when he buries his face and his limbs deep in her from the fear of death by shell-fire, then she is his only friend, his brother, his mother; he stifles his terror and his cries in her silence and her security; she shelters him and releases him for ten seconds to live, to run, ten seconds of life; receives him again and again and often forever. — Erich Maria Remarque

I wish a camera had been trained on me, because it would show what it looks like for a woman to be awakened to the truth. The truth? My lies and exaggerations would be responsible for a mother being locked up. — Maria Semple

Aunt Maria would mildly observe that, next time Uncle Podger was going to hammer a nail into the wall, she hoped he'd let her know in time, so that she could make arrangements to go and spend a week with her mother while it was being done. — Jerome K. Jerome

Ghost?" I asked.
Moon Man pointed to Valek. "Kiki's name for him. It makes sense," he said, seeing the look of confusion on my face. "To magical beings, we see the world through our magic. We see him with our eyes, but cannot see him with our magic. So he is like a ghost to us."
Valek listened to Moon Man. Although expressionless, I could tell by the rigid set to Valek's shoulders that he was prepared to strike.
"Another relative?" Valek asked.
A broad smile stretched Moon Man's lips. "Yes. I am her mother's uncle's wife's third cousin. — Maria V. Snyder

I would describe myself like a landscape I've studied at length, in detail; like a word I'm coming to understand; like a pitcher I pour from at mealtime; like my mother's face; like a ship that carried me when the waters raged. — Rainer Maria Rilke

Nobody asks about Beethoven's mother's own life - a fairly miserable round of pregnancy, childbirth, and child death. Was Maria Magdalena Keverich van Beethoven put on earth only to produce her wunderkind? Might she have had gifts of her own that she never got to offer the world? — Katha Pollitt

I had turned to leave and he had called after me. "Miss Maria, I kin no other woman who could be wearing men's trousers and be dripping such as ye are and look quite so lovely. It's a right shame your mother is marrying you off to that great sot!"
I had turned to call back to him, "I doubt very much we will have to worry about that after today! — Gwenn Wright

One of my greatest joys is poetry. I read it almost every day, and I've even taken a stab at writing some of my own. A poem I wrote for my mother when she was dying really helped me get through that hard time. — Maria Shriver

No, we don't accomplish our love in a single year as the flowers do; an immemorial sap flows up through our arms when we love. Dear girl, this: that we loved, inside us, not One who would someday appear, but seething multitudes; not just a single child, but also the fathers lying in our depths like fallen mountains; also the dried-up riverbeds of ancient mothers-;also the whole soundless landscape under the clouded or clear sky of its destiny -; all this, my dear, preceded you. — Rainer Maria Rilke

I always studied because I knew I had to. I needed to survive and take care of my mother. — Maria Das Gracas Silva Foster

All my life I've had a weight problem. As a child, I loved to eat. I would hide from my mother and drink whole cans of condensed milk in my room. — Maria Conchita Alonso

Action is the parent of results; dormancy, the brooding mother of discontent. — Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

Ah! Mother, Mother! You still think I am a child - why can I not put my head in your lap and weep? Why have I always to be strong and self-controlled? I would like to weep and be comforted too, indeed I am little more than a child; in the wardrobe still hang short, boy's trousers - it is such a little time ago, why is it over? — Erich Maria Remarque

Your mother sounds like a formidable woman," Valek said into the silence.
"You have no idea," Leif replied with a sigh.
"Well, if she's anything like Yelena, my deepest sympathies," Valek teased.
"Hey!"
Leif laughed and the tense moment dissipated.
Valek handed Leif his machete. "Do you know how to use it?"
"Of course. I chopped Yelena's bow into firewood," Leif joked. — Maria V. Snyder

Before my mother's tremulous anxiety I recover my composure. Now I can walk about and talk and answer questions without fear of having suddenly to lean against the wall because the world turns soft as rubber and my veins become brimstone. — Erich Maria Remarque

I thank my mother, Terezinha, for the power of her transforming love. — Maria Das Gracas Silva Foster

He was telling her here, in this cellar, as he kissed her feet, he had understood love for the first time - not just from other people's words, but in his heart, in his blood. She was dearer to him than all his past, dearer to him than his mother, than Germany, than his future with Maria ... He had fallen in love with her. Great walls raised up by states, racist fury, the heavy artillery and its curtain of fire were all equally insignificant, equally powerless in the face of love.. He gave thanks to fate for allowing him to understand this before he died. — Vasily Grossman

What advice can we give to new mothers? Their children need to work at an interesting occupation: they should not be helped unnecessarily, nor interrupted, once they have begun to do something intelligent. — Maria Montessori

Hymn
At morn- at noon- at twilight dim-
Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!
In joy and woe- in good and ill-
Mother of God, be with me still!
When the hours flew brightly by,
And not a cloud obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine! — Edgar Allan Poe

My only comfort," she said to Meg, with tears in her eyes, "is that Mother doesn't take tucks in my dresses whenever I'm naughty, as Maria Parks's mother does. My dear, it's really dreadful, for sometimes she is so bad her frock is up to her knees, and she can't come to school. When I think of this deggerredation, I feel that I can bear even my flat nose and purple gown with yellow sky-rockets on it. — Louisa May Alcott

The Sand as Soul of Mother Earth
is to know every soul on earth, the way
I know myself and my own soul.
Religious Leader Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Religion Of Blue Circle
Timeless Endless — Petra Hermans

The great constructive energies of the child ... have hitherto been concealed beneath an accumulation of ideas concerning motherhood. We used to say it was the mother who formed the child; for it is she who teaches him to walk, talk, and so on. But none of this is really done by the mother. It is an achievement of the child. What the mother brings forth is the baby, but it is the baby who produces the man. Should the mother die, the baby still grows up and completes his work of making the man. — Maria Montessori

To know : how to take care of all the souls
is to see the human soul as :
Sand of Mother Earth
Religious Leader Petra Cecilia Maria Hermans
Religion Of Blue Circle
October 22, 2016 — Petra Hermans

Freedom, where are you? Who holds you back? [ ... ] The mother of wit and pleasure, Oh freedom! — Manuel Maria Barbosa Du Bocage

...but a sense of strangeness will not leave me. I cannot feel at home among these things. There is my mother, there is my sister, there my case of butterflies, and there the mahogony piano, but I am not myself there. There is a distance, a veil between us. — Erich Maria Remarque

And be very careful at the front, Paul."
Ah, Mother, Mother! Why do I not take you in my arms and die with you. What poor wretches we are! — Erich Maria Remarque

Fourteen years without a mother had me believe I could be stoic when I finally met her. — Maria V. Snyder

All these people - the people of the English mother's side - had been of condition more or less eminent; yet with oddities and disparities that had often since made Maria, thinking them over, wonder what they really quite rhymed to. It — Henry James

My mother worked for a woman, Maria Ley-Piscator, who with her husband founded the Dramatic Workshop, which was connected to the New School. My mother did proofreading and typing and stuff or her, and as part of her payment, I was able to take acting classes there on Saturdays when I was 10. — Robert De Niro

Love is not a businessman who wants to see a return on his investments. And imagination needs only a few nails on which to hang its veil. Whether they are of gold, tin, or covered with rust makes no difference to it. Wherever it gets caught, it is caught. Thornbush or rosebush, as soon as the veil of moonlight and mother-of-pearl has fallen on it, either becomes a fairy tale out of A Thousand and One Nights — Erich Maria Remarque

Tell me about your family, I said. And so she did. I listened intently as my mother went through each branch of the tree. Years later, after the funeral, Maria had asked me questions about the family - who was related to whom - and I struggled. I couldn't remember. A big chunk of our history had been buried with my mother. You should never let your past disappear that way. — Mitch Albom

My mother took too much, a great deal too much, care of me; she over-educated, over-instructed, over-dosed me with premature lessons of prudence: she was so afraid that I should ever do a foolish thing, or not say a wise one, that she prompted my every word, and guided my every action. So I grew up, seeing with her eyes, hearing with her ears, and judging with her understanding, till, at length, it was found out that I had not eyes, ears or understanding of my own. — Maria Edgeworth

I always write authors after I read their books. I've been doing it for years. I write a formal letter and send it to them in care of their agent. My mother always taught us to write thank you notes, and if an author puts themselves out there, they like to hear that their book connected with someone. — Maria Semple

I lie down on many a station platform; I stand before many a soup kitchen; I squat on many a bench;
then at last the landscape becomes disturbing, mysterious, and familiar. It glides past the western windows with its villages, their thatched roofs like caps, pulled over the white-washed, half-timbered houses, its corn-fields, gleaming like mother-of-pearl in the slanting light, its orchards, its barns and old lime trees.
The names of the stations begin to take on meaning and my heart trembles. The train stamps and stamps onward. I stand at the window and hold on to the frame. These names mark the boundaries of my youth. — Erich Maria Remarque