Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall. A mother’s secret hope outlives them all.
There is no velvet so soft as a mother’s lap, no rose as lovely as her smile, no path so flowery as that imprinted with her footsteps.
Mother is the heartbeat in the home and without her, there seems to be no heartthrob.
A mother’s love is more beautiful than any fresh flower.
To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.
A mother is clothed with strength and dignity, laughs without fear of the future. When she speaks her words are wise and she gives instructions with kindness.
My mother is a walking miracle.
A mother’s arms are more comforting than anyone else’s.
A mother is the one who fills your heart in the first place.