Quotes & Sayings About My Lovely Mother

I learned years ago, I adore acting and I think it's the most alive I know how to be - almost - but I really want a good life. I've been married for 17 years - I know, they call us the last couple. I have a 13-year-old daughter. I have a lovely home life with good friends who aren't in the business ... and I have no desire to cost my whole life in pursuit of the career alone. — Kathleen Turner

My third grade teacher called my mother and said, 'Ms. Cox, your son is going to end up in New Orleans in a dress if we don't get him into therapy.' And wouldn't you know, just last week I spoke at Tulane University, and I wore a lovely green and black dress. — Laverne Cox

My mother was a wonderful, wonderful woman with a lovely voice who hated housework, hated cooking even more and loved her children. She was always arranging church activities such as a bazaar. — Maureen Forrester

I think about my mother every day. But usually the thoughts are fleeting - she crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye: startling, luminous, lovely ... gone. — Meghan O'Rourke

I think, though, the biggest heroes in my life would have been both my mother and father. My father because he was very brave and a kid from the Depression. And my mother, a child from the Depression too, who always remained so lovely her whole life. — Susan Stroman

And in the night my own mother came to the window to meet me, strange, solitary; splendid with countless stars; my mother Night; mine, lovely, mine. My home ... — Anna Kavan

All you care about with your parents is that they are happy, and my mother is exceptionally happy at the moment, and I've always adored my stepfather, and he's always been a kind and good and lovely man. — Tom Parker Bowles

I have lovely memories of Los Angeles in the 1930s. I came down to live with my mother's cousin and they invited me to come and go to junior college for a year. — Beverly Cleary

Although still viewed as lovely and alluring by many, Winston Churchill's mother shocked society when at 46 she married a man 20 years her junior. Most malicious of the many jibes launched at her was that of one lady who went about peering into perambulators. When asked her reason, she replied, "I am searching for my future husband." — Anne Sebba

For years I'd been awaiting that overriding urge I'd always heard about, the narcotic pining that draws childless women ineluctably to strangers' strollers in parks. I wanted to be drowned by the hormonal imperative, to wake one day and throw my arms around your neck, reach down for you, and pray that while that black flower bloomed behind my eyes you had just left me with child. (With child: There's a lovely warm sound to that expression, an archaic but tender acknowledgement that for nine months you have company wherever you go. Pregnant, by contrast, is heavy and bulging and always sounds to my ear like bad news: "I'm pregnant." I instinctively picture a sixteen-year-old at the dinner table- pale, unwell, with a scoundrel of a boyfriend- forcing herself to blurt out her mother's deepest fear.) (27) — Lionel Shriver

Satan impregnated my mother one lovely spring morning. We didn't have the heart to tell my father. — Holly Hood

In those days he seemed to be a nice old gentleman, and his existence always served practical purposes, such as when I was accused of misconduct, for then I could shift the blame to him by saying, "Old Tacet did it." Naturally, no one would believe me, this being a last-ditch effort to avoid the hairbrush. If my mother were alive today, she'd laugh at me for still fantasizing - yet it's the truth.
Even now, whenever necessary, I still summon forth the old geezer - in theater programs, for example, to credit him for costumes that I've designed, ones for which I prefer not getting the hook. Yes, he's another of my names: the unlikely but lovely and perfectly logical — Paul Taylor

My darling looks like a little girl when she awakens. You couldn't think she is the mother of two big brats. And her skin has a lovely smell, like new-cut grass, the most cozy and comforting odor I know. — John Steinbeck

Now she took a close look at me for the first time, puffing on her pipe while the old woman beside her sighed. I didnt feel I could look at Mother directly, but I had the impression of smoke seeping out of her face like steam from a crack in the earth. I was so curious about her that my eyes took on a life of their own and began to dart about. The more I saw of her, the more fascinated I became. Her kimono was yellow, with willowy branches bearing lovely green and orange leaves; it was made of silk gauze as delicate as a spiders web. Her obi was every bit as astonishing to me. It was a lovely gauzy texture too, but heavier-looking, in russet and brown with gold threads woven through. The more I looked at her clothing, the less I was aware of standing there in that dirt corridor, or of wondering what had become of my sister and my mother and father and what would become of me. — Arthur Golden

He was the son of this bitchy book reviewer. Totally blasted my first book. Called all my lovely kinksters 'sick' and 'abusive.' So I got my payback by sickly abusing her youngest all night long."
"And you felt guilty about that?"
"Not the sex. The note I sent Mom the next day."
"You sent his mother a note after you seduced her son? What did it say?"
"It said..." Nora began, and paused for a breath. Not one of her prouder moments. "It said, 'Your son gave me five stars last night. And five fingers.'"
"You're smiling."
"I'm trying so hard to feel bad about it. I swear to God I am. — Tiffany Reisz

Outside the hospital, a young girl who was selling small bouquets of daffodils, their green stems tied with lavender ribbons. I watched as my mother bought out the girl's whole stock. Nurse Eliot, who remembered my mother from eight years ago volunteered to help her when she saw her comng down the hall, her arms full of flowers. She rounded up extra water pitchers from a supply closet and together, she and my mother filled them with water and placed the flowers around my father's room while he slept. Nurse Eliot thought that if loss could be used as a measure of beauty in a woman, my mother had grown even more beautiful.
(The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold) — Alice Sebold

Well," he said with an affected sigh, "you have my approval, at least."
"Why?" Hyacinth asked suspiciously.
"It would be an excellent match," he continued. "If nothing else, think of the children."
She knew she'd regret it, but still she had to ask. "What children?"
He grinned. "The lovely lithping children you could have together. Garethhhh and Hyathinthhhh. Hyathinth and Gareth. And the thublime Thinclair tots."
Hyacinth stared at him like he was an idiot.
Which he was, she was quite certain of it.
She shook her head. "How on earth Mother managed to give birth to seven perfectly normal children and one freak is beyond me."
"Thith way to the nurthery." Gregory laughed as she
headed back into the room. "With the thcrumptious little
Tharah and Thamuel Thinclair. Oh, yeth, and don't forget
wee little Thuthannah! — Julia Quinn

Oh, hello," Dr. M says, shaking Balder's hand. "Wonderful costume. I'm a bit of a role player myself on the weekends. Tell me, where did you get the helmet?"
It was forged in the North, blessed by the hands of Odin, given to me by my mother, Frigg," Balder answers.
Lovely. I got mine on the Internet. — Libba Bray

My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me. — Suzanne Collins

Evelyn, see there. The eldest from the Ralstons. I hear they have a lovely collection of stained-glass windows." Ah, yes, just my type: a stiff, prideful lord-to-be with impeccable, cold deportment to prove his perfect breeding.
"Set a date," I declared solemnly with a wave of my hand. "I shall marry him immediately."
Rose choked back her giggle, but Mother was far less amused. "Not this childish behavior again," she said through her teeth, which were still arranged in a polite smile for the guests. "You will give these men more than a second's thought or deeply regret this attitude in a few years' time."
"Yes, when I'm crying next to, God forbid, a plain window, — Kelly Zekas

A man can be beautiful, I see that now. It's not just a woman's term, not a word reserved for romantic, virtuous, elegant things. I don't think beauty is neat anymore. It's unordered. It's unbrushed hair and a torn back pocket. It's bright and strange and lovely, and if I were to paint him, I'd use all the warm colours - ochre, gold, plum, terracotta, scarlet, burnt orange. I want him to see me as I saw him then, I want him to find me alone at the end of the day with the sun in my hair. I want his heart to buckle, too. I want him to stop someone out in the square and say, who's that? Do you know her? Where is she from?"

- from Eve Green's mother's account.
"It is written on a piece of thin, yellow paper, and is folded in half. I like this account. I like it because it's true, she's right. We all want out lovers to see us that way - unaware, natural, serene. We want to change their world with one glance, to stop their breath at the sight of us. — Susan Fletcher

My bridal gown. So beautiful in design but it was never sewed. So lovely, ivory lace, ivory silk, sheer lace back, pleated bodice and flared skirt never sewed.
My veil, my "train."
(So foolish the bridal train, trailing along the ground, on dirty steps. What possible purpose, beautiful and costly dazzling-white silk so quickly spoiled.)
The bridal design held us captive. My dear mother, and me.
And so, when I was married to my husband it seemed to me a second marriage. — Joyce Carol Oates

It was a lovely autumn day with a blue sky: I made my way through a lead-coloured world, and I realized that my mother's accident was affecting me far more than I had thought it would. I could not really see why. It had wrenched her out of the framework, the role, the set of images in which I had imprisoned her: I recognized her in this patient in bed, but I did not recognize either the pity or the kind of disturbance that she aroused in me. — Simone De Beauvoir

I looked at her. my lovely, tall mother with her pretty coil of hair and her hard, bitter mouth. Her veins were never open. Her heart never leapt out to flop helplessly on the lawn. She never melted into puddles. She was normal. Always. At any cost. — E. Lockhart

Sometimes the teachers would ask her to translate bad news. "Please tell Mrs. Fondulas that her son is very disruptive." And my mom would nod and say in Greek, "George is a lovely boy." Because she knew if she really translated that, the kid would get a beating and the mother would hate her forever out of embarrassment. — Tina Fey

I recognized the great monument from the illustration in the copy of /The Jungle Book/ that my mother kept in the top drawer of my bedside table. When I went with Sophia to the Taj Mahal for the first time, I was not as enchanted by the real mausoleum as I had been by its plaster, paint, and paper replica in the studio; the original posed a dreadfully seductive promise in cool marble of a strangely painful loveliness, a lover's lie that death itself might in some mysterious way, because of love, be lovely. — Lee Siegel

Before we leave the gravesite, Mary sings Mother's favorite gospel hymn ...
Mary's lovely voice rises and lingers in the air, and by the end of the song most of us are crying. I am too, though I still don't know what those stars are meant to represent. My mistake, I suppose, is in thinking they should mean something. — Christina Baker Kline

The entire affective world, constructed over the years with utmost difficulty, collapses with a kick in the father's genitals, a smack on the mother's face, an obscene insult to the sister, or the sexual violation of a daughter. Suddenly an entire culture based on familial love, devotion, the capacity for mutual sacrifice collapses. Nothing is possible in such a universe, and that is precisely what the torturers know ... From my cell, I'd hear the whispered voices of children trying to learn what was happening to their parents, and I'd witness the efforts of daughters to win over a guard, to arouse a feeling of tenderness in him, to incite the hope of some lovely future relationship between them in order to learn what was happening to her mother, to get an orange sent to her, to get permission for her to go to the bathroom. — Jacobo Timerman

Loser"
"Father directed choir. When it paused on a Sunday,
he liked to loiter out morning with the girls;
then back to our cottage, dinner cold on the table,
Mother locked in bed devouring tabloid.
You should see him, white fringe about his ears,
bald head more biased than a billiard ball
he never left a party. Mother left by herself
I threw myself from her car and broke my leg ...
Years later, he said, 'How jolly of you to have jumped.'
He forgot me, mother replaced his name, I miss him.
When I am unhappy, I try to squeeze the hour
an hour or half-hour smaller than it is;
orphaned, I wake at midnight and pray for day
the lovely ladies get me through the day — Robert Lowell

Honey, are you being safe?'
'I wear my seat belt, yes.'
'Does this Rob Lovely wear a seat belt too?'
Matty sighed. 'Mother, seat belts should be worn at all times when in a moving vehicle. Didn't you teach me that?'
'So long as we're both talking about condoms here, then I'll leave it.'
'Consider it left. — Leta Blake

On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold. — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

If there was one silver lining to this whole mess, it was the reminder of my family's greatness. I had a lovely visit with my mother that — Piper Kerman

Other than that, how was Kyril Island, Ensign Vorkosigan?" inquired the Count. "You didn't vid home much, your mother noticed." "I was busy. Lessee. The climate was ferocious, the terrain was lethal, a third of the population including my immediate superior was dead drunk most of the time. The average IQ equaled the mean temperature in degrees cee, there wasn't a woman for five hundred kilometers in any direction, and the base commander was a homicidal psychotic. Other than that, it was lovely. — Lois McMaster Bujold

Then the violet coffin moved again and went in feet first. And behold! The feet burst miraculously into streaming ribbons of garnet coloured lovely flame, smokeless and eager, like pentecostal tongues, and as the whole coffin passed in it sprang into flame all over; and my mother became that beautiful fire. — George Bernard Shaw

I think it's lovely. I mean..." I returned my gaze to the fire, because it was easier to talk to him that way. "What I mean to say is, it's lovely to think of your mother holding her first baby, and looking at your fingers and toes, your eyes, your lips, and saying, 'Perfect. He's perfect. My Tegus.' -Dashti — Shannon Hale

My mother always used to say when picking up a product, 'Would you give this to the Duchess of Windsor?' Well, that's lovely. But the Duchess of Windsor is dead. — Leonard Lauder

During my incarceration Mother visited me. She had in some way managed to leave the workhouse and was making an effort to establish a home for us. Her presence was like a bouquet of flowers; she looked so fresh and lovely that I felt ashamed of my unkempt appearance and my shaved iodined head.
'You must excuse his dirty face,' said the nurse.
Mother laughed, and how well I remember her endearing words as she hugged and kissed me: 'With all thy dirt I love thee still. — Charlie Chaplin

Here I am looking at my lovely ten-year-old daughter, Maggie, in her white dress, singing Protestant hymns with the choir at the Plymouth Church of the Brethren when I should be at Mass praying for the repose of the soul of my mother, Angela McCourt, mother of seven, believer, sinner, though when I contemplate her seventy-three years on this earth I can't believe the Lord God Almighty on His throne would even dream of consigning her to the flames. A God like that wouldn't deserve the time of day. — Frank McCourt

I think I'm going to wear blue to the wedding. I saw this gorgeous dress on sale at Macy's the other day. I think I have a coupon," Mom tells Liz.

"Oh hell no! I already told you I was going to wear blue, you whore. You can't wear the same color as me, that's tacky," Liz complains.

Oh my God, this is not happening right now.

"Fuck your mother. I'm wearing blue. I already found my dress," Mom argues.

"I'm the mother of the bride. The mother of the f**king bride! That means it's up to me!" Liz fires back.

"Claire, I think you would look lovely in blue," Tyler pipes in.

Mom turns to face Tyler and folds her arms on top of the table. "When I'm finished neutering you, I'm going to take your tiny little neuticles and light them on fire. — Tara Sivec

I can relate to Marguerite Duras even though I'm not French, nor have I been consumed by love for an East Asian man. I can life inside Alice Munro's skin. But I can't relate to my own mother. My body is full of sentences and moments, my heart resplendent with lovely turns of phrases, but neither is able to be touched by another. — Rabih Alameddine

Lovely,wonderful Isabelle.Could you please go away?Now is a really bad time."
Isabelle looked from Magnus to her brother,and back again.
"Then,you dont want me to tell you that Camille's just escaped from the Sanctuary and my mother is demanding that you come back to the Institute right now to help them find her?"
"No,"Magnus said."I dont want you to tell me that"
"Well,to bad"Isabelle said"Because it's true .I mean,I guess you dont have to go,but- — Cassandra Clare