The mother said to her daughter, "Daughter, bid thy daughter tell
her daughter that her daughter's daughter hath a read more

The mother said to her daughter, "Daughter, bid thy daughter tell
her daughter that her daughter's daughter hath a daughter."

We know that birth takes a woman from one place in her life to another. The birth of a child read more

We know that birth takes a woman from one place in her life to another. The birth of a child certainly does change her viewpoint of herself and I believe her viewpoint of the world.

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So read more

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet within a month--
Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman--
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she--
O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourned longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules.

The mother loves her child most divinely, not when she surrounds him with comfort and anticipates his wants, but when read more

The mother loves her child most divinely, not when she surrounds him with comfort and anticipates his wants, but when she resolutely holds him to the highest standards and is content with nothing less than his best.

Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the features of the mother's face, read more

Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the features of the mother's face, her aspect and her attitude.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forced
Those waters from me which I would have stopped;
read more

The pretty and sweet manner of it forced
Those waters from me which I would have stopped;
But I had not so much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears.

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

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

The mother says to her daughter: Daughter bid thy daughter, to
her daughter, that her daughter's daughter is crying.
read more

The mother says to her daughter: Daughter bid thy daughter, to
her daughter, that her daughter's daughter is crying.
[Lat., Mater ait natae die natae filia natum
Ut moneat natae plangere filiolam.]

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No
man does. That is his.

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No
man does. That is his.