A Quote by Richelle Mead

My mom beat me up," I informed my reflection. It looked back sympathetically. — © Richelle Mead
My mom beat me up," I informed my reflection. It looked back sympathetically.
I was into opera as a kid - I'd play 'Carmen' and sing and dance. My mom signed me up for a theater group before preschool, and I never looked back.
I'm a reflection of my mom, my brothers and everyone in my family. How I carry myself is a reflection of how they raised me. I've learned that.
Socrates, when informed of some derogating speeches one had used concerning him behind his back, made only this facetious reply, "Let him beat me too when I am absent.
My mornings start with mom coming into my bedroom and waking me up, or trying to wake me up, and then I go back to sleep. Then my mom wakes me up again and yells at me. Then she'll get me to wake up, and I'll get dressed and go to school. We go to school, and my teacher tells me that I didn't do the homework well enough. And that's that.
I wanted to travel and I was fascinated with stand-up and I just knew nothing was ever going to stop me from doing it. My mom tried to, she'd say 'You need to go to school and have a back up.' Nah, mom, this is it.
My brother was probably one of the toughest kids from my neighborhood and he didn't make it easy on me. He made sure I was getting beat up as much as possible growing up. If he wasn't beating me up, he was making his friends beat me up.
I read everything, but particularly, growing up in a household where my mom was black and my dad was white, I remember really loving 'Ebony' and 'Essence.' Those magazines were the only place where I could see images of women who looked like me or my mom.
My mom used to tell me stories at night, read books to me - and I read 'em over and over and over again. And you know what I learned from that? I went back and looked at everything - Why do I like reading the same stories over and over and over again? What, was I some kind of nincompoop? No - the narrative gave me connection with my mom.
When I was really young, my mom enrolled me in dance classes. "Mom, I'm too young to dance," I told her. She kind of forced me, but I ended up loving it, and after the ?rst lesson I came back and said, "Come on, Mom, I'll show you the box step." That introduced me not just to dancing but also to working with someone without having a goal.
I looked up at my mom, and I was like, 'Well, Mom, uh, when you really think about it, C's aren't really that bad. C's are average.' And I've never seen my mom so upset, to this day. I just saw this flash of fire in her eyes, and she yelled, 'Average? You are never allowed to be average, because you look like me.'
I lived in South Africa until I was 11 when we first immigrated. My mom had sent me back there when I was 14 for summer vacation. I wasn't doing very well in school, my grades were slipping. I called my mom one day and told her that I wasn't coming back. I ended up staying there until I was 17 before coming back to North America.
Seeing my mother struggle with her weight confused me: I looked at her and thought she was beautiful, she was my mom. And this woman, who I looked up to everyday, couldn't see her own beauty?
If you want to beat me up, feel free. You cannot beat me up more than I have already beaten up myself.
My dad always taught me never to give up in my mind. You can never really beat me. It sounds ridiculous, but I will always come back for you. You can't beat someone who never gives up. I could lose 100 times to you, but I will always get you. I will die trying. This applies not only to swimming but to my life as well.
I like people who are devoted to me: men who know I'm the most fabulous thing in the world, and they just look at me with adoration. That's how my dad looked at my mom, and that's how I expected to be looked at.
When I was 15, I decided to take up the sport seriously, so I went down to the Y.M.C.A. My first day there, this little Italian guy beat my brains out. I decided to quit. Then I realized I really wanted to be a fighter. I worked at it, went back, and that little Italian guy didn't beat me up no more.
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