If evolution really works, how come mothers have only two hands?
No language can express the power and beauty and heroism of a mother’s love.
To a child’s ear, ‘mother’ is magic in any language.
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.
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.
A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.
A mother’s love is more beautiful than any fresh flower.
Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible.
Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.
The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation.