My grandmother was a very tough woman. She buried three husbands and two of them were just napping.
On the seventh day God rested. His grandchildren must have been out of town.
It's one of nature's way that we often feel closer to distant generations than to the generation immediately preceding us.
My grandmother always used to say, "If you know your past and you know where you have to go, why do you rehearse?" I always remember this and it's true. You have to start each day again-you can't repeat what you did.
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.
The closest friends I made all through life have been people who also grew up close to a loved and loving grandmother or grandfather.
I phoned my grandparents and my grandfather said 'We saw your movie.' 'Which one?' I said. He shouted 'Betty, what was the name of that movie I didn't like?
If you would civilize a man, begin with his grandmother.
When the grandmothers of today hear the word 'Chippendales,' they don't necessarily think of chairs.
My grandmother always told me you must keep to your old roads and stick to your original friends and just go through smooth, be careful and stay positive.
I believed that there was a God because I was told it by my grandmother and later by other adults. But when I found that I knew not only that there was God but that I was a child of God, when I understood that, when I comprehended that, more than that, when I internalized that, ingested that, I became courageous.
Through my grandmother's eyes, I can see more clearly the way things used to be, the way things ought to be, and most important of all, the way things really are.
The second thing that happened is, DNA analysis is much more sophisticated. All you have to do now is spit in a test tube and you find out all kind of things in six weeks - where they are from in Africa or Europe. You can prove or disprove the fundamental African-American myth that you descended from a Cherokee great, great grandmother.
Through a grandmother's voice and hands the end of life is known at the beginning.
Consider your second attention as a spiritual perceiver. Consider how you use it. You may plead innocence. You're not doing anything wrong. Don't feel that you've sinned. You have done what you had to do to survive, as did your mother, as did your grandmother.
To my mother, I was everything. To my father, nothing at all. To my grandmother, I was a daily reminder of loves long lost.
Right after I graduated, my girlfriend, who I had been going out with for five years, dumped me, and my grandmother died.
When my mother and my grandmother died three months apart, I knew my world was over.
I always remember having a healthy respect for my grandmother.
When I look in the mirror, I don't see my Dad, I see my grandmother. For a while it was my mother looking back at me. If only it was my Dad.
My father's mother, my Grandmother Young, was said by the family to have talked herself to death. Convalescing from a fever, she had defied the doctors and gone right on talking.
A lot of the songs on the new album are about imaginary things, things that you can't touch - ghosts and rumors, my dead grandmother, things visiting you in a dream.
Sometimes we adopt certain beliefs when we're children and use them automatically when we become adults, without ever checking them out against reality. This brings to mind the story of the woman who always cut off the end of the turkey when she put it in the oven. Her daughter asked her why, and her mother responded, "I don't know. My mother always did it." Then she went and asked her mother, who said, "I don't know. My mother always did it." The she went and asked her grandmother, who said, "The oven wasn't big enough."
I am fairly certain that my independent, high-spirited grandmother must have had a childhood similar to Betsy Ray'sAs I read about the School Entertainment and ice cream socials, about ladies leaving calling cards and the milkman with his horse-drawn wagon, I felt that I was having an unexpected and welcome peek into Granny's childhood-a gift to me from Maud Hart Lovelace
I tried to talk to Annabeth, but she was acting like I'd just punched her grandmother.
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