Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922.
Motherhood
Stabat mater, dolorosa
Juxta crucem lacrymosa
Que pendebat Filius.
At the cross, her station keeping,
Stood the mournful mother, weeping,
Where He hung, the dying Lord.
Anon. Trans. by Dr. Irons.
Alma mater.
Fostering mother.
Applied by students to the university where they have graduated.
[Milton] calls the university “A stony-hearted step-mother.”
Augustine Birrell.—Obiter Dicta. Phrase used also by De Quincey—Confessions of an Opium Eater. Pt. I. Referring to Oxford Street, London.
A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.
Coleridge—The Three Graves. St. 10.
The mother of all living.
Genesis. III. 20.
There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within
A mother’s heart.
Mrs. Hemans—Siege of Valencia. Sc. Room in a Palace of Valencia.
The mother said to her daughter, “Daughter, bid thy daughter tell her daughter that her daughter’s daughter hath a daughter.”
George Hakewill—Apologie. Bk. III. Ch. V. Sec. 9.
Mater ait natæ die natæ filia natum
Ut moneat natæ plangere filiolam.
The mother says to her daughter: Daughter bid thy daughter, to tell her daughter, that her daughter’s daughter is crying.
See Greswell—Account of Runcorn. P. 34. Another trans.: Rise up daughter, and go to thy daughter, For her daughter’s daughter hath a daughter. Another old form in Willets’ Hexapla, in Leviticum. Ch. XXVI. 9.
I arose a mother in Israel.
Judges. V. 7.
If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
Kipling—Mother O’ Mine.
There was a place in childhood that I remember well,
And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairy tales did tell.
Samuel Lover—My Mother Dear.
A woman’s love
Is mighty, but a mother’s heart is weak,
And by its weakness overcomes.
Lowell—Legend of Brittany. Pt. II. St. 43.
The bravest battle that ever was fought;
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world you will find it not;
It was fought by the mothers of men.
Joaquin Miller—The Bravest Battle. Mothers of Men.
Her children arise up and call her blessed.
Proverbs. XXXI. 28.
They say man rules the universe,
That subject shore and main
Kneel down and bless the empery
Of his majestic reign;
But a sovereign, gentler, mightier,
Man from his throne has hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
William Stewart Ross (“Saladin”). Poem in Woman: Her Glory, her Shame, and her God. Vol. II. P. 420. 1894.
So loving to my mother
That he might not esteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly.
Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 140.
And all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears.
Henry V. Act IV. Sc. 6. L. 32.
And say to mothers what a holy charge
Is theirs—with what a kingly power their love
Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind.
Mrs. Sigourney—The Mother of Washington. L. 33.
Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My mother.
Anne Taylor—My Mother. St. 6.
The bearing and the training of a child
Is woman’s wisdom.
Tennyson—Princess. Canto V. L. 456.
Happy he
With such a mother! faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall,
He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Tennyson—Princess. Canto VII. L. 308.
Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of children.
Thackeray—Vanity Fair. Vol. II. Ch. XII.
They say that man is mighty,
He governs land and sea,
He wields a mighty scepter
O’er lesser powers that be;
But a mightier power and stronger
Man from his throne has hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Wm. Ross Wallace—What Rules the World. Written about 1865–6.
All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That is his.
Oscar Wilde—Importance of Being Earnest. Act I.
Sure I love the dear silver that shines in your hair,
And the brow that’s all furrowed, and wrinkled with care.
I kiss the dear fingers, so toil-worn for me,
Oh, God bless you and keep you, Mother Machree.
Rida Johnson Young—Mother Machree.