Grandmother Quotes

Quotes tagged as "grandmother" Showing 1-30 of 113
Ishmael Beah
“In the sky there are always answers and explanations for everything: every pain, every suffering, joy and confusion.”
Ishmael Beah, A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier

“From her thighs, she gives you life
And how you treat she who gives you life
Shows how much you value the life given to you by the Creator.
And from seed to dust
There is ONE soul above all others --
That you must always show patience, respect, and trust
And this woman is your mother.
And when your soul departs your body
And your deeds are weighed against the feather
There is only one soul who can save yours
And this woman is your mother.
And when the heart of the universe
Asks her hair and mind,
Whether you were gentle and kind to her
Her heart will be forced to remain silent
And her hair will speak freely as a separate entity,
Very much like the seaweed in the sea --
It will reveal all that it has heard and seen.

This woman whose heart has seen yours,
First before anybody else in the world,
And whose womb had opened the door
For your eyes to experience light and more --
Is your very own MOTHER.
So, no matter whether your mother has been cruel,
Manipulative, abusive, mentally sick, or simply childish
How you treat her is the ultimate test.
If she misguides you, forgive her and show her the right way
With simple wisdom, gentleness, and kindness.
And always remember,
That the queen in the Creator's kingdom,
Who sits on the throne of all existence,
Is exactly the same as in yours.
And her name is,
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

Tamora Pierce
“And now you're off to Port Caynn. Watch them sailor lads. They'll have your skirts up and a babe in your belly afore you know what you're about."
"Everyone keep warning me about sailors," I complained. "Why can't someone tell the sailors to stay clear of me?"
Granny snorted. "Oh, you're the fierce one now! Just take care no one else catches you unawares and knocks you on the nob!”
Tamora Pierce, Bloodhound

Dave Barry
“The best baby-sitters, of course, are the baby’s grandparents. You feel completely comfortable entrusting your baby to them for long periods, which is why most grandparents flee to Florida.”
Dave Barry

Crystal Woods
“To all those who care,
You can't forever.
Time steals the years,
And your reflection in the mirror.
But I can still see the story in your eyes,
And your timeless passion that’s never died.
While your skin became tired,
Your heart became strong,
The present became the past,
And your memories like a song.
And though the moment at hand is all that we have,
You’ve taught me to live it like it is our last.
Since two words don't say ‘thank you’ the way they are meant to,
I'll try all my life to be something like you.”
Crystal Woods, Write like no one is reading 2

Jodi Picoult
“His grandmother had taught him that there was no such thing as coincidence. There are millions of people in this world, she had told him, and the spirits will see that most of them, you never have to meet. But there are one or two that you are tied to, and spirits will cross you back and forth, threading so many knots until they catch and you finally get it right.”
Jodi Picoult

Tamora Pierce
“Gran, for the gods' love, it's talk like yours that starts riots!" I said keeping my voice down. "Will you just put a stopper in it?"

She looked at me and sighed. "Girl, do you ever take a breath and wonder if folk don't put out bait for you? To see if you'll bite? You'll never get a man if you don't relax."

My dear old Gran. It's a wonder her children aren't every one of them as mad as priests, if she mangles their wits as she mangles mine.

"Granny, "I told her, "this is dead serious. I can't relax, no more than any Dog. I'm not shopping for a man. That's the last thing I need.”
Tamora Pierce, Bloodhound

Darnell Lamont Walker
“And like that, I said goodbye to my grandmother like we were two people who met in a coffee shop, shared a lifetime of stories and left wanting more, but knowing we’d meet there again.”
Darnell Lamont Walker

Sue Monk Kidd
“Grandmotherhood initiated me into a world of play, where all things became fresh, alive, and honest again through my grandchildren's eyes. Mostly, it retaught me love.”
Sue Monk Kidd

“TJ frowns; she can’t write about willing wind and water in the official report. Voicing elements is a rumor. However, she remembers what her grandmother said five decades ago when she was a child; (it was shortly after the war): “Anyone who trains hard can be a Grade A by the time they’re forty or fifty. But it takes decades more to become strong enough to voice one element.”
“One element?”
TJ asked.
“Do you want to voice the entire universe then?”
“Can’t I?”

Grandmother didn’t answer, not directly anyway, as most great masters do. They never say you can’t do this or no one can do that or that thing is impossible just because they couldn’t do it, or because they hadn’t found it yet. True masters answer differently. Wisely. Like her grandmother answered that day.

“Do you know why we evolve, Tirity?”
“Because we’re supposed to?”
TJ replied.
“Yes. It’s in the grand design. We’re ‘supposed to’ evolve. Not just in body, but also in mind,” she said. “In time. You see, time is the key. If given infinite time, you can evolve your mind infinitely. But we live only for a hundred years or so.”

“A hundred years is ‘only’?”
“You’re so young, Tirity! But yes, it is little for a complete cognitive evolution. Most hard trainers can prolong it to a couple of hundred years. They even get to call the wind or grow a giant plant that could touch the clouds. But voicing everything in the universe? I think only God can do it, the God who created everything with only words. And if God created the world so that he could see how far the humans can evolve, then I’d say, yes, even a human could get godly power. Godlier than voicing one or two elements. If. Given. The. Time.”

“How much time?”
“More than thousands of years, maybe. Could even need millions, who knows? …”

TJ smiles drily; she remembers how her eyes sparkled at the thought of becoming a goddess who could voice everything. She dreamed of flying in the air or walking in space. She thought of making her own garden full of giant flowers where only enormous butterflies would dance. Some days, when she played video games in VR, she even dreamed of voicing the thunder and lightning to join her wooden sword. She thought time could help her do it.

But she didn’t know then, time only makes you grow up.
Time steals your dreams.
Time only turns you into an adult.”
Misba, The High Auction

“Grandmother didn’t answer, not directly anyway, as most great masters do. They never say you can’t do this or no one can do that or that thing is impossible just because they couldn’t do it, or because they hadn’t found it yet. True masters answer differently. Wisely. Like her grandmother answered that day.”
Misba, Wisdom Revolution

Nikita Gill
“Grandmothers are a gift not to be taken lightly. So many lose them, before they are old enough to know their magic. I am glad my bones were born with this knowledge. She taught me how to become a good ancestor. At least this - loving her presence, appreciating her wisdom - is something I know how to do well.”
Nikita Gill, The Girl and the Goddess: Stories and Poems of Divine Wisdom

Jonathan Safran Foer
“We believed in our grandmother’s cooking more fervently than we believed in God. Her culinary prowess was one of our family’s primal stories, like the cunning of the grandfather I never met, or the single fight of my parents’ marriage. We clung to those stories and depended on them to define us. We were the family that chose its battles wisely, and used wit to get out of binds, and loved the food of our matriarch.”
Jonathan Safran Foer, Eating Animals

R.G. Manse
“Franny?” Rosy held up the four little Franks. “Could I keep one of these?”
Franny looked at her hard for a moment then nodded. “’Course you can, hen,” she said, “But that’s not your daddy.”
Rosy gaped. “It’s not?”
“That’s my wee darling. That’s my wee Frankie before the devil twisted him into a monster.” She poked her finger into another hole where Frank’s face should have been. Her eyes glinted.”
R.G. Manse, Screw Friendship

Lilian Li
“Her crown of white hair seemed to stand like a halo around her in the night sky.”
Lilian Li, House of Koi

Lilian Li
“She had nightmares every night whenever she visited. As if the ghosts of the house greeted her with loving arms.”
Lilian Li, House of Koi

Vindy Teja
“Beware! Authentic communication is not to be confused with Grandma's unfiltered comments!”
Vindy Teja

“Grandparents enjoy most the company of their grandchildren. For with them, they experience the miracle of being 10 again.”
Meeta Ahluwalia

Craig D. Lounsbrough
“We would sit on the old glider swing, my Grandmother and I. And as people passed her broad front porch, she would point and say, “The best life you can live is when you touch at least one life a day for Jesus.” And today, I am writing this to touch you.”
Craig D. Lounsbrough

Allyson Charles
“Annie cookies. Or more precisely, anise cookies. The name got butchered somewhere along the way."
He took another bite and let the flavors explode on his tongue. "It's sweet and spicy and tart all at the same time. Your grandmother was a genius."
Cassie arched a white-painted eyebrow. "I don't think she invented anise cookies. But yeah, I like the mix of the licorice flavoring with a sugar cookie. She used to make them for Christmas, but I think they're better for Halloween. Anise just seems like a darker, more complex spice, something suited for goblins and ghouls rather than a jolly Santa Claus." She reached up and wiped a bit of icing from his lip, then blushed. She ducked her head back to her cookie. "The icing has a bit of lemon juice in it. I think the citrus gives the anise a nice punch."
Chip rubbed his mouth, his flesh still humming from her touch. Cassie was the one who packed a punch. She was just like her grandmother's cookies: a mix of sweet and heat, spice and tart. Every part of her he found appealing, knowing it all added up to this complex woman.”
Allyson Charles, The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice

Cassie Beasley
“....Blue frowned at the scene before them. Someone was behind an azalea bush, pointing the beam of a flashlight up at a dark figure on the roof of the house. Something like confetti was drifting through the air as the figure spun in circles and waved its arms.

" What is this place?"

"It's the Okra Lane Home for Seniors "

"Somebody's twirling around on the roof."

"Yes." Granny Eve sighed. "That's your great-grand-mother.”
Cassie Beasley, Tumble & Blue

Stacey Ballis
“Stupid dog, do you realize you have actually LITERALLY bitten the hand that feeds you?"
Schatzi looks at me with a withering stare, arching her bushy eyebrows haughtily, and then turns her back to me. I stick out my tongue at her back, and go to the kitchen to freshen her water bowl. Damnable creature requires fresh water a zillion times a day. God forbid a fleck of dust is dancing on the surface, or it has gone two degrees beyond cool, I get the laser look of death. Once there was a dead fly in it, and she looked in the bowl, crossed the room, looked me dead in the eye, and squatted and peed on my shoes. I usually call her Shitzi or Nazi. I suppose I'm lucky she deigns to drink tap water. Our bare tolerance of each other is mutual, and affection between us is nil. The haughty little hellbeast was my sole inheritance from my grandmother who passed away two years ago. A cold, exacting woman who raised me in my mother's near-complete absence, Annelyn Stroudt insisted on my calling her Grand-mère, despite the fact that she put the manic in Germanic, ancestry-wise. But apparently when her grandparents schlepped here mother from Berlin to Chicago, they took a year in Paris first, and adopted many things Française. So Grand-mère it was.
Grand-mère Annelyn also insisted on dressing for dinner, formal manners in every situation, letterpress stationary, and physical affection saved for the endless string of purebred miniature schnauzers she bought one after the other, and never offered to the granddaughter who also lived under her roof. Her clear disappointment in me must have rubbed off on Schatzi, who, despite having lived with me since Grand-mère died neatly and quietly in her sleep at the respectable age of eighty-nine, has never seen me as anything but a source of food, and a firm hand at the end of the leash. She dotes on Grant, but he sneaks her nibbles when he cooks, and coos to her in flawless French. Sometimes I wonder if the spirit of Grand-mère transferred into the dog upon death, and if the chilly indifference to me is just a manifestation of my grandmother's continued disapproval from beyond the grave.
Schatzi wanders over to her bowl, sniffs it, sneers at me one last time for good measure, shakes her head to ensure her ears are in place, like a society matron checking her coif, and settles down to drink.”
Stacey Ballis, Recipe for Disaster

Ta-Nehisi Coates
“Your grandmother was not teaching me how to behave in class. She was teaching me how to ruthlessly interrogate the subject that elicited the most sympathy and rationalizing--myself.”
Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me

“You know, Marco, they can leave us, they can grow old, but it's like they're still here, running around our feet, just like when they were little tykes.”
Zidrou, The Adoption

Yaa Gyasi
“In that room, with his family, he would sometimes imagine a different room, a fuller family. He would imagine so hard that at times he thought he could see them. Sometimes in a hut in Africa, a patriarch holding a machete; sometimes outside in a forest of palm trees, a crowd watching a young woman carrying a bucket on her head; sometimes in a cramped apartment with too many kids, or a small, failing farm, around a burning tree or in a classroom. He would see these things while his grandmother prayed and sang, prayed and sang, and he would want so badly for all the people he made up in his head to be there in that room, with him.”
Yaa Gyasi, Homegoing

“At home I pulled all my blinds. I said to my Grandmama and Mama this and that. I said to them, You believed in signs. I remember that well. I remembered how my Mama could read the steam coming off a soup kettle. Especially if it had good, fresh marrow in it. And if I didn’t feel good, Grandmama would go out and bring in fistfuls of wild herbs. She’d throw them in broths and read, depending on my ailment. She was half doctor, half priest. I said to her once when I had the croup and she was making me drink something that had grass in it, I said, “Grandmama, are you making me drink magic?”

“No baby, this is good ole-fashioned hoodoo.”
Connie May Fowler, Sugar Cage

“The Glubs’ house had always looked as if a giant had picked it up and given it a good shake. And it was styled like a sweater your grandmother made: having too much in the sleeve, and too much about the waist, but providing more warmth than any other of your own.”
Nicholas Gannon, The Doldrums

Zeyn Joukhadar
“Sitt Shadid scoops me up in a bear hug, sweeping me into her round softness. I haven't been hugged, really hugged, in so long... But Sitt Shadid pats and rubs my back, and I relax. I reach across her wide arms, my cheek to her neck. She smells like jasmine flowers and olive soap.”
Zeyn Joukhadar, The Map of Salt and Stars

J. Tisa
J. Tisa

Laurie Frankel
“She was always threatening to move to be nearer to Rosie and the boys, but Wisconsin was- obviously, nonnegotiably, self-evidently-too cold. So she stayed in Pheonix and held the weather to her heart as a talisman, clutched to her breast against all counteroffers.
But she came up for the summers. Pheonix's weather need not be clutched to the breast for June through September.”
Laurie Frankel, This Is How It Always Is

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