In the mother’s eyes, her smile, her stroking touch, the child reads the message: ‘You are there!’
There’s no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.
If evolution really works, how come mothers have only two hands?
A mother is a mother still, the holiest thing alive.
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.
There is only one pretty child in the world, and every mother has it.
When you are looking at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.
A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
Mother: the most beautiful word on the lips of mankind.
Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.