All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.
It’s not easy being a mother. If it were, fathers would do it.
The art of mothering is to teach the art of living to children.
Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.
The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation.
Mama was my greatest teacher, a teacher of compassion, love and fearlessness. If love is sweet as a flower, then my mother is that sweet flower of love.
Having children just puts the whole world into perspective. Everything else just disappears.
To the world, you are a mother, but to your family, you are the world.
There is nothing as sincere as a mother’s kiss.
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.
Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.
If evolution really works, how come mothers have only two hands?
Mother is the heartbeat in the home and without her, there seems to be no heartthrob.
When you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.
My mother is a walking miracle.
A mother is your first friend, your best friend, your forever friend.
A mother is the one who fills your heart in the first place.
I realized when you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.
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.
Mother’s love is peace. It need not be acquired, it need not be deserved.