One Mom To Another Quotes & Sayings

Morals are meant to be shared." He held me away for another moment, reading, then grinned and handed me the book. "I like this one."
... "It's better to love people than wealth. I love Dad, Mom, Kendall, Sandra, Nick, baby Stetson, and especially Hudson. I wouldn't trade them for a mountain of gold."
"I love the word 'especially,'" he said. "And I love the person who wrote it." Then he bent over to kiss me. — Janette Rallison

You asked what the wallpaper was in Mom's old room. It's lilacs."
"Ah. It was always flowers, usually roses, when she was a little girl. It changed a lot as she got older. I remember once it was lightning bolts on a tar-black background. And then another time it was this scaly blue color, like a dragon's belly. She hated that one, but couldn't seem to change it. — Sarah Addison Allen

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

The latter is very prepubescent."
"Prepubescent!" Josh gasped. "Prepubescent!"
"I am totally pubescent," one of his friends said.
Another said haughtily, "I will have you know that my mom and I are going to Aspen to shop for training bras this weekend."
I rolled my eyes. "Later." I slid off the bench and stood.
"Hey,we're helping you go off the jump again tomorrow,right?" Josh asked, using the word helping very loosely.
"Yeah," another boy said, "eleventh time's the charm."
I looked toward the Galaga machine. Fiona was still there, yet Nick was gone. Probably just to order her a drink.Ordinarily, I would have bounced all over the restaurant searching for him so I could flirt him out of Fiona's pink-nailed grasp. But the whoopee cushion had taken the wind out of my sails. — Jennifer Echols

We eventually come to a one-story house that looks as though it's on its way to becoming one with the forest surrounding it. "Seriously?"
Mom looks at me with a glance that says so much.
Be quiet, for one thing.
Get out, for another.
Mind your manners is surely in there.
And last but not least, This is freaking crazy. — Travis Thrasher

He looks toward the ocean, dark purple with the last rays of light. "My mom says we're all connected--people and plants and animals. We all know one another on the inside. It's what's on the outside that distracts. Our clothes, our words, our actions. Shark attacks. Gunshots. We spend our lives trying to find other people. Sometimes we get confused and turned around by the distractions." He smiles at me. "But we didn't. — Jenn Bennett

Mom and Dad sleep soundly atop the white cushion, her in his lap and their legs tangled together. His handsome profile is scruffy, his nose buried in her long, pinkish blond hair. The strands twitch, alive with magic. Her gauzy wings are folded behind her like a butterfly's at rest.
They look so lovely together, the White knight and his fairy bride, in one another's arms at last. In spite of all they went through to reach this place, their love never faltered. They deserve this more than anyone I know. — A.G. Howard

Hello, Bradley,' said Mom. She'd regained her composure after my outburst, and now raised her camera. 'Stand close.'
'No, Mom,' I said. 'No pictures.'
'But you're friend's here now,' she said, waving us together. 'Smile!'
'I don't need a picture with-' the flash snapped '-another guy. That's great, Mom, thank you. Send that one to Dad and tell him we're going steady. — Dan Wells

I was cyber-bullied before all those Myspace-related suicides, so my school principal wasn't really impressed when my mom complained about what was happening to me on my Xanga blog and on AIM chat.
"Get your life sorted out, you fucking scitzo [sic] dyke tranny bitch," one comment might say.
Another comment would say something like, "I know she's reading this, she's so pathetic."
And, perhaps most frightening of all: "I'm going to fuck you up until your mother bleeds. — Nenia Campbell

I hand over a lot of things when I'm home. Mom tells me she doesn't like my shirt I want to buy, and I hand it over. Not the shirt itself, but my wish for that shirt. I want to watch one television show and she wants to watch another one -I hand that over too. It's easier that way. I even hand over my toenails when she asks. But I think sometimes you need to put a thing in a box -even if the box is inside your head -and store it away for yourself. — Gin Phillips

My mom used to make my costumes when I was little; she sews a lot. One year, I was a bride and I had a big wedding dress and a bouquet. Another year I was a medieval princess with a long teal dress and a veil. It was a little extravagant, but it was cute! — Sasha Pieterse

For example, Adria came home from nursery school one day with a picture she was excited to show off. She immediately interrupted something important her mother was doing and wanted her mom to celebrate her picture with her. Another time, her mother might — Carol Tuttle

All I wanted in this world was to be a mom."
"You regret it?" I ask.
"Being a mom? Never. Seducing your father and making sure he didn't use a condom, yes."
"I don't want to hear this."
"Well, I'm gonna tell it to you whether you want to hear it or not. Be careful, Alex."
"I am."
She takes another drag of her cigarette while shaking her head. "No, you don't get it. You might be careful, but girls won't be. Girls are manipulative. I should know, I'm one of them."
"Brittany is--"
"The kind of girl who can make you do things you don't want to do."
"Believe me, Mom. She doesn't want a kid."
"No, but she'll want other things. Things you can never give her."
I look up at the stars, the moon, the universe that I know doesn't end. "But what if I want to give them to her? — Simone Elkeles

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

As an author and fellow mom, my hope is that you see yourself reflected in these pages. By sharing and reading the experiences of others, my wish is that we can move forward as a generation of women who support one another, and who can work together to create a more stable system of support for the next generation. — Christine Woodcock

Sometimes entire families participate unconsciously in a culture of self-dramatization. The kids fuel the tanks, the grown-ups arm the phasers, the whole starship lurches from one spine-tingling episode to another. And the crew knows how to keep it going. If the level of drama drops below a certain threshold, someone jumps in to amp it up. Dad gets drunk, Mom gets sick, Janie shows up for church with an Oakland Raiders tattoo. It's more fun than a movie. And it works: Nobody gets a damn thing done. Sometimes — Steven Pressfield

I learned as a really young kid, when my dad was telling me one story and my mom was telling me another that, even as a 5-year-old boy, there was no way that both of these stories are true. Something in the middle is true, and I have to figure out what it is, what the truth is, and I never did quite figure that out. — Moshe Kasher

If her luck held, she'd never have to know. The baby was perfect cover, it made her something else, a mom, that was all, just another mom in the nation of moms, ad all she'd ever have to do to be safe was stay inside that particular fate, bring up the kid, grow into some version of Sasha ... speak the right lines, stay within budget, wrap each day, one by one, before she lost the light. — Thomas Pynchon

How do you know this is Paige?" I ask, pretty sure this is another fantasy. It's one thing to have Dad's tracking device. It's another to actually be tracking Paige, considering she needs to have the transmitter on her.
"The devil tells me." She lowers her head, looking troubled. "If I promise him certain things," she mumbles.
"Okay." I rub my forehead, trying to be patient. There's a certain art to getting information out of my mom. You need one foot in reality and one foot in her world to get a better picture of what she's talking about. "How does the devil know where Paige is?"
She looks up at me as if I'd asked the dumbest question in the world.
"The transmitter, of course. — Susan Ee

Look, Lynch," Kavinsky said. "It's simple. Wrap your tiny Celtic brain around this concept. What did your mom do when your goldfish died?"
Ronan stopped pacing. "I told you. It's not your rice rocket. I can get him another but it won't be the same. He doesn't want another one, he wants this one."
"I'm going to be fucking patient with you," Kavinsky said, "because you've had a head injury. You're not listening to the words I say."
Ronan threw a hand toward the Pig. "This is not a goldfish. — Maggie Stiefvater

Our house was a collection of silences, each room a mute, empty frame, each of us three oscillating bodies (Mom, Dad, me) moving around in our own curved functions, from space to space, not making any noise, just waiting, waiting to wait, trying, for some reason, not to disrupt the field of silence, not to perturb the delicate equilibrium of the system. We wandered from room to room, just missing one another, on paths neither chosen by us nor random, but determined by our own particular characteristics, our own properties, unable to deviate, to break from our orbital loops, unable to do something as simple as walking into the next room where our beloved, our father, our mother, our child, our wife, our husband, was sitting, silent, waiting but not realizing it, waiting for someone to say something, anything, wanting to do it, yearning to do it, physically unable to bring ourselves to change our velocities. — Charles Yu

Michael had watched his father crawl inside a bottle and die there just so he didn't have to get up and go to work. It wasn't long before his mom retreated behind a vacant gaze, leaving him and his sister to pay the bills, to change her stinking bags, to roll her from one sunny patch by the window to another. His mother had become a potted plant they fretted over. No, that wasn't right. Couldn't plants at least turn their heads and follow the sun? Weren't they better than her in that way? — Hugh Howey

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

One of Mom's favorite passages from Gilead was: "This is an important thing, which I have told many people, and which my father told me, and which his father told him. When you encounter another person, when you have dealings with anyone at all, it is as if a question is being put to you. So you must think, what is the Lord asking of me in this moment, in this situation.?" ... But the question from Gilead, Mom said, was always the thing you needed to ask yourself: "What is the Lord asking of me in this moment, in this situation?" It helped you remember that people aren't here for you; everyone is here for one another. — Will Schwalbe

Besides the alternate universe offered by a book, the quiet space of a museum was my favorite place to go. My mom said I was an escapist at heart ... that I preferred imaginary worlds to the real one. It's true that I've always been able to yank myself out of this world and plunge myself into another. — Amy Plum

She always said she'd already lost one child to gangs and she was not losing another. We were surrounded by gangs and kids getting in trouble blaming it on the area they lived in, but Memo and I are living proof of what my mom always said to us. You are who you choose to be. You're only a victim of your environment if you allow yourself to be. — Elizabeth Reyes

And then my mom called, "Have fun on your date, Hayden!"
Another step down and I thought, Good.Mom is mistaken and has led Nick to believe I'm going on a date.
One more step down and I thought,Oh no,Mom has led Nick believe I'm going on a date!" — Jennifer Echols

I need one, Momma, how come I don't have a baby sister?"

Rachel smiled. "You're so perfect. There was no need to ask for another."

Sophie cocked her head to the side like a puppy. "Ask who?"

"The Stork," Faith supplied.

Sophie looked thoroughly confused then. "I thought sex caused babies."

Rachel patted Faith on the back when she began to cough.

Kaycee shook her head. "Rhonda at school told me that special music causes babies. her sister told her that when her mom and dad play music in their bedroom, babies were being made. Momma, you play music in your room, but we don't have a baby."

"I don't have that particular CD, sweetie."

"My friend told me that it takes a penny and a Virginia to make a baby," Sophie said and sent Faith into another coughing fit. — Robin Alexander

I descended to the ocean floor and encountered bloated, symmetrical creatures with pumping white hearts and translucent skin. Collapsed blue civilizations lived down there, fissured and antiseptic, craggy with barnacles and blistering rust. I reached into the heart of the earth, the sky, the moon. I colonized language, mathematics, schemes of chemical order and atomic weight. I studied the manufacture of automobiles, microcircuitry, Kleenex and planets. I memorized the gross national products of nations and hemispheres, the populations of cities and states and principalities, the achievements of presidents, tyrants and kings. I was trying to learn what I suspect Mom had learned already: that there were journeys we all make alone that take us far away from one another. — Scott Bradfield

Telling Mom was one thing. Telling Dad is another.
He's in the living room smoking and watching what he claims is a very important Yankees game. It's in the ninth inning and the teams are tied. I consider backing out, maybe waiting another week or so, but maybe he won't actually care when I tell him. Maybe all that stuff he said when I was younger, about never acting like a girl or playing with any female action figures, will go away once he realizes I am the way I am without any choice. Maybe he'll accept me.
Mom follows me into the living room and sits down on Eric's bed. "Mark, do you have a minute? Aaron has something he wants to talk about."
He exhales cigarette smoke. "I'm listening." He never looks away from the game. — Adam Silvera

At the same time, though, I was beginning to wonder if this was just how it was supposed to be for me, like perhaps I wasn't capable of having that many people in my life at any one time. My mom turned up, Nate walked away, one door opening as another clicked shut. — Sarah Dessen

Dear Hilde,
I assume you're still celebrating your 15th birthday. Or is it the morning after? Anyways, it makes no difference to your present. In a sense, that will last a life time. But I'd like to wish you happy birthday one more time. Perhaps you understand now why I send the cards to Sophie. I am sure she will pass them on to you.
P.S. Mom said you lost your wallet. I hereby promise to reimburse you the 150 crowns. You will probably be able to get another school I.D. before they close for the summer vacation.
Love from Dad. — Jostein Gaarder

In one way or another,
you owe your life to Mother. — Richelle E. Goodrich

My mom and dad refused to believe that people who had grown up together in peace and friendship, had gone to the same schools, spoken the same language, and listened to the same music, could overnight be blinded by ethnic hatred and start to brutally kill one another. They simply didn't accept as true that less than two years of a multiparty system and competition for power could poison people's brains so much. — Savo Heleta

Just seems like all parents start out thinking their kids are part of them, another mouth they've gotta make sure eats, another body they've got to get dressed. And then one day, our parents look at us and notice we're whole people. We're not a part of them anymore, even if they're a part of us. And for the ones who never really wanted to be parents anyway, that's probably a relief. But for a mom like yours - I don't know, she must've been sad when she realized your life was gonna be different then hers. She must've been scared when she realized she wasn't gonna be able to protect you, and that you were gonna deal with things she never did. — Emily Henry

I trace the box's lid where a gold ribbon binds it. With one tug, the bow poofs into a golden, glittering fall of letters that form a message in midair
Things I once hoped to give you:
1. A magical wedding ...
Choking back tears, I take out the ring and loop it onto the string alongside the diary's key at my neck, tucking it under my shirt to keep it safe.
A picnic basket sits at my feet beneath the bench. There's another ribbon, and when I untie it, more letters form a glimmering parade through the air:
2. Picnics at the lake with your mom and dad ...
I sniffle and make my way to the middle of the room, where reproductions of my mosaics float next to Sold signs. I tug a ribbon loose and free another message:
3. A lifetime of shared successes and laughter ... — A.G. Howard

I change the channel to another movie. An old one, but new to me. And, ironically, a thin, gorgeous blonde - Meg Ryan, maybe - rides her bike on a country road. She smiles like she has no cares in the world. Like no one ever judges her. Like her life is perfect. Wind through her hair and sunshine on her face. The only thing missing are the rainbows and butterflies and cartoon birds singing on her shoulder.

Maybe I should grab my bike and try to catch up with Mom, Mike, and the kids. They can't be going very fast. I would love to feel like that, even if it's just for a second - free and peaceful and normal.
Suddenly, there's a truck. It can't be headed toward Meg Ryan. Could it? Yes. Oh my God. No! Meg Ryan just got hit by that truck.

Figures. See what happens when you exercise? — K.A. Barson

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

This is beautiful," I said, ignoring the shop window to trace the gleaming stone walls fronting another boutique.
"You know what's funny?" Jacob asked. He didn't wait for my answer. "You can see beauty in everything, except for yourself."
***
I swallowed hard. Erik thought my body was beautiful, Karin that it was enviable. At random times, people had noted that my hands were beautiful, or my hair. The Twisted Sisters had called my art beautiful. Mom had the best intentions and always told me before and after my laser surgeries that I would be beautiful. But no one had ever said that I was beautiful, all my parts taken together, not just the bits and pieces. — Justina Chen

The best advice my mom has ever given me is to never give up. She believes when one door shuts, another door opens. Always, always move forward. — Melissa Rivers

It's about getting the kids up and fed, getting one to school, getting the other down for a nap, going to the grocery store, picking one up from school, getting the other one down for another nap, cooking dinner ... I live my life at these two extremes. I'm either a full-time stay-at-home mom or a full-time actress. — Jennifer Garner

Chess and you taking a picture of me reading Slaughterhouse-Five, telling me I'd need proof someday because nobody in Creek View would ever believe I had actually read a goddamn book, let alone five. Talking about God and why there's evil in the world and bitching because the Steelers won the Super Bowl. Camp Leatherneck, me not missing home at all and you missing it like crazy, always talking about going to college and how when you had leave you were gonna marry Hannah. And you wanted kids, and I said I didn't because people like me, we just end up disappointing one another and I'd probably be like my dad, and you told me I had to get over it, get over my dad and my mom and how screwed up everything is because you said, Josh, you're gonna have it all. I know it. You're gonna have it all. And for the first time, I'm almost believing that. — Heather Demetrios

And do it before you get with a girl you really want to settle down with. Because - trust me on this one - it's very, very hard to find a girl that you'd want to take home to Mom, have a meaningful relationship with and possibly bear your children, who will also finger-bang another girl while you do her doggy-style. Get it done. Get it out of the way. If you don't do it, you will regret it and never move past it. You will be the new virgin. And no one wants that, especially your girlfriend. — Olivia Munn