Does it ever stop? The wanting you?" "Even when I've just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.
Diana GabaldonRead
Time does not really exist for mothers, with regard to their children. It does not matter greatly how old the child is-in the blink of an eye, a mother can see the child again as they were when they were born, when they learned how to walk, as they were at any age-at any time, even when the child is fully grown or a parent themselves.
Interpretation
A mother's perception of time is deeply intertwined with her memories of her child's growth.
This quote emphasizes the timeless bond between a mother and her child, illustrating how a mother's love and memories make her experience of time uniquely different. Regardless of her child's age, a mother can recall significant moments from their past, demonstrating the enduring emotional connection that transcends the passage of time.
In practice
In a speech about family values, one could reference this quote to highlight the importance of a mother's love.
Does it ever stop? The wanting you?" "Even when I've just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.
But a man is not forgotten, as long as there are two people left under the sky. One, to tell the story; the other, to hear it.
You are at some point exposed to a wonderful story, and you really want to know what happens next, so you learn to read in order to find out.
There are things that I canna tell you, at least not yet. And I'll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye---when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save---respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?
Conflict and character are the heart of good fiction, and good mystery has both of those in spades.
Do you know,' he said again softly, addressing his hands, 'what it is to love someone, and never - never! - be able to give them peace, or joy, or happiness?' He looked up then, eyes filled with pain. 'To know that you cannot give them happiness, not through any fault of yours or theirs, but only because you were not born the right person for them?
My mother taught us to play baseball, to bake a cake, to play fair - she beat the living daylights out of us sometimes, and she loved us with all her heart; she taught her favorite poets, and there is no child care in the world that will ever be a substitute for what that lady was in our life.
No one is going to try to fill my mother's shoes, what she did was fantastic. It's about making your own future and your own destiny and Kate will do a very good job of that.
I was a gift to my mother. She was a remarkable person. God or nature, or whatever those forces are, smiled on her, then passed me the best of her.
My father was always in good spirits, he loved football. It makes me a bit sad because if he could enjoy seeing me now, what I have achieved, that would be a highlight in his life. But I'm sure that he watches over me from above.
Motherhood is given the brush-off in our society. 'Oh, I'm just a mom,' you hear women say. 'Just' a mom? Please! Being a mom is everything. It's mentorship, it's inspirational, it's our hope for the future.
When I go back to the core of my childhood, my cousin Lucy seems always to be in the peripheral vision of my memories. She is off to one side, always off to one side, with a book, with a scheme or a project or an enterprise.
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