To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power

To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.

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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.

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Mothers hold their children’s hands for a short while, but their hearts forever.

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Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.

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The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God is the heart of a mother.

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Mother: the most beautiful word on the lips of mankind.

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A mother’s love is more beautiful than any fresh flower.

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Acceptance, tolerance, bravery, compassion. These are the things my mom taught me.

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There is only one pretty child in the world, and every mother has it.

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The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation.

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Mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled.

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When you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.

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A mother is a mother still, the holiest thing alive.

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All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.

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No language can express the power and beauty and heroism of a mother’s love.

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Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.

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There is nothing as sincere as a mother’s kiss.

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In the mother’s eyes, her smile, her stroking touch, the child reads the message: ‘You are there!’

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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.

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It’s not easy being a mother. If it were, fathers would do it.

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The mother’s heart is the child’s school-room.

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