Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement. I will not try it. Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother. – Jane Welsh Carlyle

Original Poems for Infant Minds My Mother
Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My Mother. – Anon.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed. – Bible

Women known
The way to rear up children (to be just)
They know a simple, merry, tender knack
Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes
And stringing pretty words that make no sense.
And kissing full sense into empty words. – Elizabeth Barrett Browning