A Quote by Madeline Brewer

My mom loves me a lot, and I think if I was taken from her, she would have lost her mind. — © Madeline Brewer
My mom loves me a lot, and I think if I was taken from her, she would have lost her mind.
My mom was the only one who didn't bleach her skin. She was the one who kept her natural complexion. So yes, I consider her a role model. All of her other family members would say to us, 'Oh, your mom is so beautiful. She's lucky she kept her skin.' Those comments stayed with me.
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.
My mom is one of my role models in a complicated way. I learned from her how to be a good mom. She was one of those natural moms who really took to it. Her chosen profession was teaching. She loves kids. But she was extremely frustrated and unhappy because for much of my life she was a stay-at-home mom.
My mom is just authentically herself all the time. She loves herself. She loves her sense of humor. She brings people in when she talks. She brings people in when she laughs. Watching her, I think that that's when I first learned and was encouraged to be myself and to sort of love and live in that way.
My mother is from another time - the funniest person to her is Lucille Ball; that's what she loves. A lot of times she tells me she doesn't know what I'm talking about. I know if I wasn't her son and she was flipping through the TV and saw me, she would just keep going.
I would want to know if, at 15, if my daughter loves me the way she does right now. And if she's proud of me, just because I want to be a good example for her, and seeing her grow and how much she loves Daddy saying 'Daddy, te quiero mucho,' which means 'I like you a lot,' those are the things that melt my heart.
I love her for what she has dared to be, for her hardness, her cruelty, her egoism, her perverseness, her demoniac destructiveness. She would crush me to ashes without hesitation. She is a personality created to the limit. I worship her courage to hurt, and I am willing to be sacrificed to it. She will add the sum of me to her. She will be June plus all that I contain.
...I have so many dreams of my own, and I remember things from my childhood, from when I was a girl and a young woman, and I haven't forgotten a thing. So why did we think of Mom as a mom from the very beginning? She didn't have the opportunity to pursue her dreams, and all by herself, faced everything the era dealt her, poverty and sadness, and she couldn't do anything about her very bad lot in life other than suffer through it and get beyond it and live her life to the very best of her ability, giving her body and her heart to it completely. Why did I never give a thought to Mom's dreams?
One thing I did have under my belt was, my mother lost her mother when she was 11. She mourned her mother her whole life and made my grandmother seem present even though I never met her. I couldn't imagine how my mom could go on but she did, she took care of us, she worked two jobs and had four children. She was such a good example of how to conduct oneself in a time of grief. When I lost my husband, I tried to model myself as much as I could on her.
Her library would have been valuable to a bibliophile except she treated her books execrably. I would rarely open a volume that she had not desecrated by underlining her favorite sections with a ball-point pen. Once I had told her that I would rather see a museum bombed than a book underlined, but she dismissed my argument as mere sentimentality. She marked her books so that stunning images and ideas would not be lost to her.
Love is an immortal wound that cannot be closed up. A person loses something, a part of her soul, when she loves someone. And she goes about looking for that lost part of her soul, for she knows that otherwise she is incomplete and cannot be at rest. It is only when she is with the person she loves that she becomes complete again in herself; but the moment he leaves, she loses that part which he has taken with him and knows no rest till she has found him once more.
She is never alone when she has Her Books. Books, to her, are Friends. Give her Shakespeare or Jane Austen, Meredith or Hardy, and she is Lost - lost in a world of her own. She sleeps so little that most of her nights are spent reading.
My mom is pretty unimpressed by everything. She loves black-and-white movies, and the only things she watches in color on T.V. are Judge Judy and Geico commercials because she loves the Geico gecko. I think it would mean something to her if I made it in a Geico commercial.
My wife, my Mary, goes to her sleep the way you would close the door of a closet. So many times I have watched her with envy. Her lovely body squirms a moment as though she fitted herself into a cocoon. She sighs once and at the end of it her eyes close and her lips, untroubled, fall into that wise and remote smile of the Ancient Greek gods. She smiles all night in her sleep, her breath purrs in her throat, not a snore, a kitten's purr... She loves to sleep and sleep welcomes her.
I do not mourn the loss of my sister because she will always be with me, in my heart," she says. "I am, however, rather annoyed that my Tara has left me to suffer you lot alone. I do not see as well without her. I do not hear as well without her. I do not feel as well without her. I would be better off without a hand or a leg than without my sister. Then at least she would be here to mock my appearance and claim to be the pretty one for a change. We have all lost our Tara, but I have lost a part of myself as well.
My mom has gone out of her way in her personal life. She's been with me on the road. She's had to deal with people giving her the 'that's the mom' and arguing. Just little things as a businesswoman.
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