My mother is a great source of advice and wisdom and consolation for me.

Memory is the mother of all wisdom.

I sang a song at my sister's wedding. My mother forced me into that too. But that one felt all right.

My mother lived in Holland and during World War II was incarcerated in a Japanese camp for three years.

I wanted to write about my mother as she should have been if she had not been messed up by World War I.

The mother's battle for her child with sickness with poverty with war with all the forces of exploitation and callousness that cheapen human life needs to become a common human battle waged in love and in the passion for survival.

A professional soldier understands that war means killing people war means maiming people war means families left without fathers and mothers.

A man who says that no patriot should attack the war until it is over... is saying no good son should warn his mother of a cliff until she has fallen.

I perceived how that it was impossible to establish the lay people in any truth except the Scripture were plainly laid before their eyes in their mother tongue.

Silence is the mother of truth.