A Quote by Chandra Wilson
I wanted a good relationship with my mother, and I realized I had a choice: Either I could spend all my time angry that she didn't give me the hugs I thought I needed, or I could understand that she hugs differently. It's not a spread-open-the-arms, 'come here' hug. She hugs by sheltering me from her worries.
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She turned to Skulduggery and held out her arms. “Come here, you.” He tilted his head. “My hugs are for special occasions only.” “Hug me.” “I prefer the old tradition.” “Hug.” “Would a handshake do?” “Hug.” “A pat on the back?” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him. “Hug,” she said. He sighed, and his hands settled on her shoulders. The others were warm and their embraces strong – with Skulduggery the hug was cold, and there were areas on his jacket that gave way beneath her fingers, and she could feel the emptiness within. She didn’t mind.
Women are mad at me. A girl came up to me on the street and she almost smacked me. Like, ‘How could you? How could you let a girl like that go?’ I feel like I want to give people hugs, they seem so sad. Rachel and I should be the ones getting hugs! Instead, we’re consoling everybody else.
I never had the opportunity to run up and hug my mom and tell her 'I love you,' and she tells me she loves me and hugs me back. I would want her to come to my fights and support me, but it never would happen.
Zen Hugs - the hugs that you would get, if we were there, if we could hug you, but we aren't, and we can't.
I need that hug from my mom. She's the Latin mother that hugs you and says all these sweet things to you in Spanish. It's just comforting. She also gives me that strength.
My mother would say, before I left the house, 'Remember Art, hugs are better than drugs.' And I believed my mother, I believed everything she said - until the first time I got high at a party. I leaned back, and I went, 'God, this is way better than when my Uncle Perry hugs me. What else has my mother been lying to me about?
Maybe people don't understand my openness. In fact, if someone randomly comes and hugs me, I'd hug them right back. I am all for free hugs that make people happy.
I became an adult before I had a kid, which I highly recommend. I just like to throw her around. She's a really good snuggler, and she likes to give kisses and hugs.
but she realized that she wanted him to know her. She wanted him to understand her, if only because she had strange sense that he was the kind of man she could fall in love with, even if she didn't want to.
My mother is not a naturally happy person and is very complex. She won't allow any of us to touch her. Not even my father hugs her. And, as a family, we never kiss each other. Yet we do have a close relationship.
...fact was she knew more about them than she knew about herself, having never had the map to discover what she was like. Could she sing? (Was it nice to hear when she did?) Was she pretty? Was she a good friend? Could she have been a loving mother? A faithful wife? Have I got a sister and does she favor me? If my mother knew me would she like me? (140)
A compassion swirled form nowhere in the high I was lost in. She needed me. She needed me to accept her for what she was. And when I realized that I had it within myself to give her at least this small part of me, the last of my fear melted away.
Never complain. When I did, my mother said that if I didn’t like my life, I could just give up and die. She reminded me that when I was inside her, I told her that I wanted to be born, so she delivered me, breastfed me and changed my diapers. She said that I had to be brave.
I'm not certain, but I have a little gypsy blood in me. And my mother always told me that her grandma could give someone the evil eye, and I'd better not cross her because she had some of that blood in her. Mother always believed that she could predict the future, and she had dreams that came true.
He gave her a quick, casual kiss on the cheek first. Then came the hug, and it was the hug that always made Laurel’s heart mush. Serious grip, cheek to the hair, eyes closed, just a little sway. Del’s hugs mattered, she thought, and made him impossible to resist.
She hugs me. It's tentative at first, a little scared, and yes, a little repulsed, but then she melts into it. She rests her head against my cold neck and embraces me. Unable to believer what's happening, I put my arm around her and just hold her. I almost swear I can feel my heart thumping. But it must just be hers, pressed tightly against my chest.
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