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

I think my life began with waking up and loving my mother's face.

What is Home Without a Mother?

The woman who creates and sustains a home, and under whose hands children grow up to be strong and pure men and woman is a creator second only to God.

My mother wanted me to be her wings, to fly as she had never quite had the courage to do. I love her for that. I love the fact that she wanted to give birth to her own wings.

... the heroism of the average mother. Ah! When I think of that broad fact, I gather hope again for poor humanity; and this dark world looks bright ... because, whatever else it is not full of, it is at least full of mothers.

In the beginning there was my mother. A shape. A shape and a force, standing in the light. You could see her energy; it was visible in the air. Against any background she stood out ...

No man is poor who has had a godly Mother.

The best academy, a mother's knee.

I will go to my home ... To Ullinish with its white-hoofed herds, Where once in childhood I was nourished On breast-milk of smooth-skinned women.