To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.

And here she was. Lying on the floor of a dusty, empty, locked room thinking how grateful she felt.She smiled, though it hurt tremendously to do so, thinking how blessed she had been to have spent twelve years with the most precious gifts from God. She felt honored that they called her mother. She knew she had done the best she could teaching them about life and love, faith and family. Margo lay slowly dying from the wounds inflicted by a monster, but she was at peace. Because though the devil meant it for evil, God turned it to good.

A woman's body is a sacred temple. A work of art, and a life-giving vessel. And once she becomes a mother, her body serves as a medicine cabinet for her infant. From her milk she can nourish and heal her own child from a variety of ailments. And though women come in a wide assortment as vast as the many different types of flowers and birds, she is to reflect divinity in her essence, care and wisdom. God created a woman's heart to be a river of love, not to become a killing machine.

MOTHER IS WATERI wish I couldShower your head with flowersAnd anoint your feet with my tears,For I know I have caused youSo much heartache, frustration and despair –Throughout my youthful years.I wish I could give youThe remainder of my lifeTo add to yours,Or simply eraseThe lines on your face,And mend all that has been torn.For next to God,You are the fireThat has given lightTo the flame in each of my eyes.You are the fountainThat nourished my growth,And from your chalice –Gave me life.Without the wetness of your love,The fragrance of your water,Or the trickling sounds ofYour voice,I shall always feelthirsty.

Let's accept it that we remember people only when we have some work and only our Mother‬ remembers us and calls us for no reason, just to know how we are doing!

Remember that we always love and think of you. Always. Mother.

My arrivalHer womb’s delightHer existenceMy living lightHer woundsMy scarsHer skiesMy starsHer daysMy hoursHer strengthMy powersI breathe my name Being her childWithout motherLife’s beguiledFrom the poem 'Mother

To your parents you are still that innocent baby, and sometimes even you will need your father's hand and your mother's lap.

On this Mother's Day and every day before and after, I thank you God for the precious gift of my three children. I love them unconditionally.

A mother who would stop at nothing for her child is dangerous woman when crossed.

I love you. I love you both so much.""To the moon and back?" Alice asked."Oh my God," Georgie said, "so much farther.

You and I. Hand in hand. An endless story of love. A love that grew in me for 9 months and only grows bigger each day.You and I. Hand in hand. An endless journey. Countless steps. One destination - your happiness.You and I. Hand in hand. My heart and blood. I'll share it all - take it - my whole life is you.

It's amazing the things that the heart and mind can endure. No one ever told me that growing up, so I often spent my childhood thinking something was wrong with me.

Abbie would stop in her work and utter a prayer for him,—and, sent as it were from the bow of a mother's watchful care, bound by the cord of a mother's love, the little winged arrow on its flight must have reached Some one,—Somewhere.

Another year passed on . The waves of time seemed long since to have swept away all trace of poor Mary Barton. But her husband still thought of her, although with a calm and quiet grief, in the silent watches of the night :And Mary would start from her hard-earned sleep,and think in her half dreamy, half awakened state, she saw her mother stand by her bed-side ,as she used to do 'in the days of long-ago'; with shaded candle and an expression of ineffable tenderness, while she looked on her sleeping child.

My mother is a never ending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being.I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune.I love my mom!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT PAGE: To my daughter, if you ever date anyone like the men I write, I will kick your *ss up between your ears and you will walk sideways for a month, but I’ll still love you.

And now the bad Mommy was here – outside his window. With a little whimper, he ran back to the bed, jumped in, and pulled the covers over his head.Good Mommy was gone now…and bad Mommy had come to eat him up.

? Life is all about relationships and what actually happens when people relate, when people understand each other. To see each other for who they are, not what we want or expect of them.” Margaret Bouchard

Every time I go away from home seems first time.....

I stumble and fall.I weep and struggle to rise.My mom feels it all.

I am the mother that bore you, and your sorrow is my agony; and if you don't hate her, i do'Then, mother, you make me love her more. She is unjustly treated by you, and I must make the balance even.

You realize that you habitually thought of Mom when something in your life was not going well, because when you thought of her it was as though something got back on track, and you felt re-energized.

Only after Mom went missing did you realize that her stories were piled inside you, in endless stacks. Mom's everyday life used to go on in a repeating loop, without a break. Her everyday words, which you didn't think deeply about and sometimes dismissed as useless when she was with you, awoke in your heart, creating tidal waves.

A mother’s love is like an everlasting bed of roses, that continues to blossom. A mother’s love bears strength, comfort, healing and warmth. Her beauty is compared to a sunny day that shines upon each rose petal and inspires hope.

There is no greater heaven than the heart of a loving motherShe takes care of you when you are still in her womb.She nurtures you after you are born.She hurts when you fall,She celebrates when you make your first steps.She is the only person who genuinely cares about you.She loves you as she loves herself.Her heart is your true paradise.I love you mama.

If my mother will not go to heaven, I renounce the privilege

When you look into your mother’s eyes, you know that is the purest love you can find on this earth.

I look at the cake in my mother's arms and think: here stands the only person in the whole world who'd go to such trouble for fractious, ungrateful me.

I have always been their rock. A mother’s unconditional love is fervent enough to battle against the gates of hell, rise up from her knees and stand gallant, in spite of her gaping war wounds. If only they knew the battle fought and the flood of tearshed without having to endure such agony.

My mother does not own my hands, though she works hard to train them. My mother does not own my eyes, though she frequently directs their focus. My mother does not own my mind, though she yields great influence upon it. My heart, however, she owns completely, for it was hers the day I was born.

One of the strongest loves I’ve ever witnessed is the love a mother has for her child.

I never knew what Mother knowed,Like how a thread and needle sewed,And how a kiss healed boo-boos fast.Why family knots were made to last.I never knew how Mother sawA caring man in angry pa,A smile beneath the teary gloom,A game inside a messy room.I never knowed what Mother knew,Like how to smile when days were blue,And how to laugh for laughter’s sake,While giving up her slice of cake.I never saw what Mother see’dLike honor pulling garden weeds,Or deep confessions in a look,And hope alive in storybooks.I never knew how Mother knowedTo hand out carrots when it snowed,And why hot cocoa liked the rain,While naptime kept a person sane.For mother knowed and see’d it all.A winner in a strike-out ball.A 'yes, please' in a shoulder shrug.A 'love you mostest' in a hug.Perhaps, someday, I’ll come to knowWhat Mother saw and knowed as so.Like how 'I’m right' can be all wrong,And why the night requires a song.But of the things I learned and knewI never doubted one thing true.My mother made it crystal clear,she knowed and loved me ever dear.

Mothers were meant to love us unconditionally, to understand our moments of stupidity, to reprimand us for lame excuses while yet acknowledging our point of view, to weep over our pain and failures as well as cry at our joy and successes, and to cheer us on despite countless start-overs. Heaven knows no one else will.

Mothers care in volumes of tears and earnestness of prayers and a depth of emotion others cannot fathom.

through the screen door I find all three of my boys throwing a ball around the yard with Cooper. My heart bursts in my chest. Just explodes. It physically hurts to feel so much all at once. It’s like I’m staring at a movie of what my life—our life—could have been.

I’d ask you to be careful tomorrow, if I thought you’d listen to me,’ I said to him.He looked sympathetic but annoyed. ‘Mum, I’m not a baby anymore.’ Then sensing that I was on the verge of crying, he hugged me gently to his chest. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged me this way. With my face pressed next to his heart I whispered softly, ‘You’ll always be my baby.’ The hug grew firmer and the teardrops began to fall freely.

My mother was everything to me…and then I got married…and my husband became everything to me. It struck me then… Regret was a wasted emotion… Guilt was even worse. But who can escape these destructive feelings? Who can pretend they didn’t exist?

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

A mother's love is the morning sunshine that always enlightens our way.

Mother's ways are higher than others, even when everyone rejects, mother accepts with her arms open and wide.

There's no substitute for a mother's warmth on a wintry night!!!

Please remember that you can talk to me about anything. I know it’s hard to talk to your old mom about things, but I’ll always help you in whatever way I can. I’m serious. You have to remember that I used to hold you right here in my arms.

No matter how old you are, you always want your mother’s love and acceptance. I guess I’m hoping one day I’ll get it back.

All those calm, adult discussions. When all she really wanted to do was scream for her momma, her sweet momma, the one person in the world who loved her better than anyone ever would or ever could.

I know there’s something troubling you. I’m not going to ask what it is, if you don’t want to tell me. But remember that I’m your mother. Nothing you say could ever shock me or make me love you less.

People who lost their mother should be careful about committing crime, because probably no one else is praying to save you.

A praying mother is more precious and valuable than all the riches in the world.

Don't you love your mother, dear?""I guess so. A hard, sharp, thorny kind of love that might be pity more than anything else.

No place in this world is, as safe as my mother’s womb,And nobody in this world is, as loving as my mother.

Although I wasn't there to bear witness, I imagine Lot's wife scanned the masses for her children. Perhaps she sought out the curves of their mouths and the shapes of their faces, trying to memorize her children, grown now. She looked back as I and any strong, loving mother would have done.

There is a world of difference between the experienceof 'care' – the wiping of a bottom, the bathing of a body: basicbiological obligations – and the intimacy that makes us wantto live.

Being a mother must be the saddest yet the most hopeful thing in the world, falling into a love that, once started, would never end.

Just as there is no warning for childbirth, there is no preparation for the sight of a first child... There should be a song for women to sing at this moment, or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name the moment.

Kestrel's eyes slipped shut. She faded in and out of sleep. When Arin spoke again, she wasn't sure whether he expected her to to hear him.'I remember sitting with my mother in a carriage.' There was a long pause. Then Arin's voice came again in that slow, fluid way that showed the singer in him. 'In my memory, I am small and sleepy, and she is doing something strange. Every time the carriage turns into the sun, she raises her hand as if reaching for something. The light lines her fingers with fire. Then the carriage passes through shadows, and her hand falls. Again sunlight beams through the window, and again her hand lifts. It becomes and eclipse.' Kestrel listened, and it was as if the story itself was an eclipse, drawing its darkness over her.'Just before I fell asleep,' he said, 'I realized that she was shading my eyes from the sun.' She heard Arin shift, felt him look at her.'Kestrel.' She imagined how he would sit, lean forward. How he would look in the glow of the carriage lantern. 'Survival isn't wrong. You can sell your honor in small ways, so long as you guard yourself. You can pour a glass of wine like it's meant to be poured, and watch a man drink, and plot your revenge.' Perhaps his head tilted slightly at this. 'You probably plot even in your sleep.' There was a silence as long as a smile.'Plot away, Kestrel. Survive. If I hadn't lived, no one would remember my mother, not like I do.' Kestrel could no longer deny sleep. It pulled her under.'And I would never have met you.

If I had to do it all again, I would still want my same daughter and two sons; through laughter, tears, prayers, and blessings.

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

Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb? Mother do you think they'll like this song? Mother do you think they'll try to break my balls?Mother should I build the wall?Mother should I run for president?Mother should I trust the government?Mother will they put me in the firing line?Mother am I really dying?Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true.Mother's gonna put all her fears into you.Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing.She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing.Mama will keep baby cozy and warm.Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,Of course mama'll help to build the wall.Mother do you think she's good enough -- to me?Mother do you think she's dangerous -- to me?Mother will she tear your little boy apart?Mother will she break my heart?Hush now baby, baby dont you cry.Mama's gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.Mama wont let anyone dirty get through.Mama's gonna wait up until you get in.Mama will always find out where you've been.Mama's gonna keep baby healthy and clean.Ooooh baby oooh baby oooh baby,You'll always be baby to me.Mother, did it need to be so high?