A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.
A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after.
Motherhood has a very humanizing effect. Everything gets reduced to essentials.
A mother has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.
Women's liberation is just a lot of foolishness. It's men who are discriminated against. They can't bear children. And no one is likely to do anything about that.
Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.
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.
My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her.
All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.
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.
The tie which links mother and child is of such pure and immaculate strength as to be never violated.
No one in the world can take the place of your mother. Right or wrong, from her viewpoint you are always right. She may scold you for little things, but never for the big ones.
Children and mothers never truly part--Bound in the beating of each other's hearts.
There was never a great man who had not a great mother.
If I have done anything in life worth attention, I feel sure that I inherited the disposition from my mother.
A mother who is really a mother is never free.
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 Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother.
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.
Now, as always, the most automated appliance in a household is the mother.
What a mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin.
To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.
In the Heaven's above, the angels, whispering to one another, can find, among their burning terms of love, none so devotional as that of 'Mother.
Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence.
There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep.
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