Being a mother means that your heart is no longer yours; it wanders wherever your children do
A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world.
All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.
Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.
Setting a good example for your children takes all the fun out of middle age.
A mother never realizes that her children are no longer children.
A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.
No matter how old a mother is, she watches her middle-aged children for signs of improvement.
I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford. Then I want to move in with them.
Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.
A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after.
The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.
Becoming a mother makes you the mother of all children. From now on each wounded, abandoned, frightened child is yours. You live in the suffering mothers of every race and creed and weep with them. You long to comfort all who are desolate.
She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along.
The mother's heart is the child's schoolroom.
A mother has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.
When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.
A father may turn his back on his child, brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, wives their husbands. But a mother's love endures through all.
The mother-child relationship is paradoxical and, in a sense, tragic. It requires the most intense love on the mother's side, yet this very love must help the child grow away from the mother, and to become fully independent.
Insanity is hereditary; you get it from your children.
A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words.
A mother's yearning feels the presence of the cherished child even in the degraded man.
The commonest fallacy among women is that simply having children makes them a mother - which is as absurd as believing that having a piano makes one a musician.
Your children need your presence more than your presents.
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