Quotes About Motherhood

Being a mother is an attitude, not a biological relation.

No matter how intellectual and multicolored motherhood becomes as children grow older, the part that says My purpose on earth is to keep you alive has never totally dissipated. Magical thinking on all sides.

Mothers sometimes are overly possessive, but not all children allow themselves to be possessed.

There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child — and an instinct to make any child who needs her love, her own.

A mom reads you like a book, and wherever she goes, people read you like a glowing book review.

There is a time early in life when there seem to be countless reasons for happiness, and then you discover your mom is making them up.

A mom forgives us all our faults, not to mention one or two we don't even have.

Motherhood All love begins and ends there.

Cornelia kept her in talk till her children came from school, "and these," said she, "are my jewels."

Thank you, the young mother said again. Thank you. The Black Tower protects, Logain heard himself say. Always. I will send him to you to be tested when he is of age, the woman promised, holding her son. I would have him join you, if he has the talent. The talent. Not the curse. The talent.

No woman with grit could give up when she had children

For countless years Maidens who would not give up the spear have given their babes for the Wise Ones to hand to other women, none knowing

women with variants of genes that produce higher levels of oxytocin or oxytocin receptors average higher levels of touching their infants and more synchronized gazing with them.

Como Sullivan e seus colegas escreveram, "o apego [de tal filhote] por quem cuida dele evoluiu para garantir que o filhote estabeleça uma ligação com o cuidador, independente da qualidade dos cuidados recebidos". Em uma tempestade, qualquer mãe serve.

Gilbert put his arm about them. 'Oh, you mothers!' he said. 'You mothers! God knew what He was about when He made you.

Most young men are such bores. They haven't lived long enough to learn that they are not the wonders to the world they are to their mothers.

It doesn't seem FAIR, said Anne rebelliously. Babies are born and live where they are not wanted-where they will be neglected-where they have no chance. I would have loved my baby so-and cared for it tenderly-and tried to give her every chance for good. And yet I wasn't allowed to keep her.

Dear God, help him and help the mother . . . help all mothers everywhere. We need so much help, with the little sensitive, loving hearts and minds that look to us for guidance and love and understanding.

Anne sewed and planned little winter wardrobes...Nan must have a red dress, since she is so set on it...and sometimes thought of Hannah, weaving her little coat every year for the small Samuel. Mothers were the same all through the centuries...a great sisterhood of love and service...the remembered and the unremembered alike.

Shirley, the little brown boy, as he was known in the family Who's Who, was asleep in Susan's arms. He was brown-haired, brown-eyed and brown-skinned, with very rosy cheeks, and he was Susan's especial love. After his birth Anne had been very ill for a long time, and Susan mothered the baby with a passionate tenderness which none of the other children, dear as they were to her, had ever called out. Dr. Blythe had said that but for her he would never have lived.

Anne was sitting on the steps, her hands clasped over her knee, looking, in the kind dusk, as girlish as a mother of many has any right to be; and the beautiful gray-green eyes, gazing down the harbour road, were as full of unquenchable sparkle and dream as ever.

Even Billy Andrews' boy is going—and Jane's only son—and Diana's little Jack," said Mrs. Blythe. "Priscilla's son has gone from Japan and Stella's from Vancouver—and both the Rev. Jo's boys. Philippa writes that her boys 'went right away, not being afflicted with her indecision.

She wanted all her boys to be gentlemen, she said.

The ten year old Ingleside twins violated twin tradition by not looking in the least alike. Anne, who was always called Nan, was very pretty, with velvety nut-brown eyes and silky nut-brown hair. She was a very blithe and dainty little maiden—Blythe by name and blithe by nature, one of her teachers had said. Her complexion was quite faultless, much to her mother's satisfaction. I'm so glad I have one daughter who can wear pink, Mrs. Blythe was wont to say jubilantly.