He knows that if his father had been a different man, or his mother another women, he would have been the same. He would have lived all his years the same way. They played no part. Any combination would have produced the same result. The same man.
What’s wrong with him?”“Nothing. He’s just. . just. .” “Just what?”“A peacemaker.” And she’d dropped her voice to a whisper. “What would I do with a peacemaker?” “The same thing I did with a whore.
Not crazy in a 'let's paint the kitchen bright red!' sort of way. But crazy in a 'gas oven, toothpaste sandwich, I am God' sort of way. Gone were the days when she would stand on the deck lighting lemon-scented candles without then having to eat the wax.p28
It's been said that parents should give their children roots and wings. That was a perfect description of my parents. Even in a wheelchair, my father was a dreamer with his head in the clouds and my mother was the roots with both feet planted firmly on terra quaking firma.
But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin.
The strange fact that out of millions of people in the world, your mother and father met and decided to get married to each other. And out of the millions of sperm, that the one with your genes was the one that made it to the egg and fertilised the egg. I'll never forget it.
...to return to their 'native soil,' as they say, to the bosom, so to speak, of their mother earth, like frightened children, yearning to fall asleep on the withered bosom of their decrepit mother, and to sleep there for ever, only to escape the horrors that terrify them.
Helda's been trying to impress me with the embroidery on the sheets. One more minute and I thought I might use them to hang myself.""My mother did the embroidery," Bittterblue said.Katsa clapped her mouth shut and glared at Helda. "Thank you, Helda, for mentioning that detail.
What does it say?" asked my lord."It says, `Good-night, God keep you all the night!'--just what she used to say when we were together. Every night she used to say that to me, and every morning she said, `God bless you all the day!' So you see I am quite safe all the time----
And also, one is a mother in order to understand the inexplicable. One is a mother to lighten the darkness. One is a mother to shield when lightning streaks the night, when thunder shakes the earth, when mud bogs one down. One is a mother in order to love without beginning or end.
No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you've got, say "Oh, my gosh," and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It's not a question of choice.
What-what do you want?" Annabeth asked, trying to maintain a tone of confidence.The voice cackled maliciously.'To curse you, of course! To destroy you thousand times in the name of Mother Night!'"Only a thousand times?" Percy murmured. "Oh, good...I thought we were in trouble.
Mama said it's probably because of Suzanne, and that you are never the same after a child dies. That made me wonder what she was like before Clover died, because I don't think I really knew my own mother until I had children, and if she was different before, I don't remember.
