From the  NY Times

5/10/26

‘It’ll quilt out.’

Mom was a quilter, as am I. If there was a small mistake in a quilt project, once the final stitches were in and the project was washed, no one would ever see the problem. Most things just don’t have to be perfect. — Laura Falk, 57, St. Louis, Missouri

‘All people bring joy: some by coming, some by going!’

It’s such a lighthearted way to reframe interactions with difficult people. Always makes me laugh! — Michelle Pauk, 42, Franklin, Tennessee

‘少吃, 多滋味’

“Eat less, taste more.” At a time of scarcity of food during the war, mother used to say her motto to us at meal time. — Christa Shih, 92, New York City

‘Knock with your elbows.’

It meant show up at a friend’s place burdened with contributions for the party. — Natalie Serber, 64, Portland, Oregon

‘Better to wear out than rust out.’

Having had polio, my mother’s inclination was toward motion, in which she often was a blur. She could best her three daughters in sports and accomplish more in a day than all of us combined. — Catherine R. Seeley, 78, Easton, Maryland

‘A man riding by on a fast horse would never notice.’

She used to say this whenever I complained that something wasn’t perfect. It taught me to always remember that “good enough” is good enough. — Susan Moxon, 81, San Diego, California

‘Tout passe et tout s’efface, sauf les souvenirs.’

“Everything passes and everything fades away, except memories.” I find myself using my Haitian mom’s saying whenever someone frets over something of little importance. — Babette Wainwright, 73, Madison, Wisconsin

‘Don’t push the river.’

Now I say this to friends — stop striving and forcing outcomes, trust the natural flow of life, let go and stay present. — Julie Merrick, 56, Olympia, Washington

‘Sing out, Louise!’

To my mom, this line from the musical “Gypsy” meant always let your presence be known. Make a choice, be specific and carpe diem. “Curtain up, light the lights!” — Jonathan Cobrda, 35, New York City

‘Never pass up an opportunity to pee.’

It’s very true, especially on road trips, but it also has a deeper meaning in my life: Take care of something when you get the chance. — Cari Stoltz, 42, Richland Center, Wisconsin

‘I’m in your pocket.’

Mom always said this to me, and it made me feel safe. Now that she is gone, I hear her in my mind’s ear and know she is still always with me. — Julie Lewis, 70, Providence, Rhode Island