A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary
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.
A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
The best place to cry is on a mother’s arms.
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.
It’s not easy being a mother. If it were, fathers would do it.
To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.
No language can express the power and beauty and heroism of a mother’s love.
The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation.