A Quote by Jodi Picoult

The best place to cry is on a mother's arms. — © Jodi Picoult
The best place to cry is on a mother's arms.
I'm often a crier and many things make me cry. I come from a crying family - my mother cries, my grandma used to cry. It was never shameful to cry. My father never told me men don't cry.
Love is the Divine Mother's arms; when those arms are spread, every Soul falls Into them.
My beautiful Win. I wanted to kiss him on every last broken place, but his mother and my lawyer were there. So, instead I started to cry.
Storm the castle Stem the tide Rise above yourself Cry baby cry Cry cry to heaven If that doesn't do it for you Go ahead and cry like hell
He sometimes wondered if she had become involved with him just so that she could cry in someone's arms. Maybe she can't cry alone, and that's why she needs me.
I cry secretly. I don't really cry in front of anybody. I hate crying. I feel like it's not accomplishing anything. But when I lost my mother, I cried, and I cried big.
Cry Baby is about Cry Baby and the next album [which I think I have a title for but I don't wanna say anything yet because I don't know and it's too early] is a place in the weird town that I'm trying to create and its Cry Baby's perspective throughout this album. You're not learning about her, you're learning about the place that she's in and her perspective. Down the line for sure I will think of other characters in this world.
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I And hailed the earth with such a cry As is not heard save from a man Who has been dead, and lives again. About the trees my arms I wound; Like one gone mad I hugged the ground; I raised my quivering arms on high; I laughed and laughed into the sky.
The Italian comes to his table with the same open heart with which a child falls into his mother's arms, with the same easy feeling of being in the right place.
Without a sense of place the work is often reduced to a cry of voices in empty rooms, a literature of the self, at its best poetic music; at its worst a thin gruel of the ego.
If there be no place for wild bison in all of Montana, then surely we have crossed a line between the Last Best Place and the the Once Best Place.
You hear these yummy mummies talk about being the best possible mother, and they put all their effort into their children. I also want to be the best possible mother, but I know that my job as a mother includes bringing my children up so, actually, they can live without me.
So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold.
Who will cry for the little boy, lost and all alone? Who will cry for the little boy, abandoned without his own? Who will cry for the little boy? He cried himself to sleep. Who will cry for the little boy? He never had for keeps. Who will cry for the little boy? He walked the burning sand. Who will cry for the little boy? The boy inside the man. Who will cry for the little boy? Who knows well hurt and pain. Who will cry for the little boy? He died and died again. Who will cry for the little boy? A good boy he tried to be. Who will cry for the little boy, who cries inside of me?
Friends give you a shoulder to cry on. But best friends are ready with a shovel to hurt the person that made you cry.
I try not to cry in front of people that might get very emotional. I try to cry by myself. When I'm in a comfortable place, I don't hold anything inside. I just let it out, and I feel better afterwards.
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