To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.
When you are looking at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.
God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.
A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
Being a mother is an attitude, not a biological relation.
The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation.
It’s not easy being a mother. If it were, fathers would do it.
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.
I realized when you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.
Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.