My daughters are the heart of my heart and the center of my world

The mother can feel herself the center of attention, for her child's eyes follow her everywhere. A child cannot run away from her as her own mother once did.

I am not looking at the world, not confronting it; I am knowing it by a continuous process of transforming it into myself, so that everything around me, the whole globe of space, no longer feels away from me but in the middle.

The center is everywhere

When you're a child you're the center of everything. Everything happens for you. Other people? They're only ghosts furnished for you to talk to.

A child, of course, assumes that her world is the whole world.

You are my centre when I spin away.

When you're a child you're the center of everything. Other people? They're only ghosts furnished for you to talk to. But when you grow up you take your place and you're your own size and shape. Things go out of you to others and come in from other people. It's worse, but it's much better too.

I look into my daughter's eyes. And realize that I'ma learn through her. The Messiah, might even return through her. If I'ma do it, I gotta change the world through her

Why, why, why won't the world revolve around me?

I've always been so apathetic. I figured okay, maybe the world is going to fall down around me. Now I feel… maybe that's motherhood, too. I want to make a better world, I want to make sure she has some place to walk around.

For to be a woman is to have interests and duties, raying out in all directions from the central mother-core, like spokes from the hub of a wheel. The pattern of our lives is essentially circular. We must be open to all points of the compass; husband, children, friends, home, community; stretched out, exposed, sensitive like a spider’s web to each breeze that blows, to each call that comes. How difficult for us, then, to achieve a balance in the midst of these contradictory tensions, and yet how necessary for the proper functioning of our lives. How much we need, and how arduous of attainment is that steadiness preached in all rules for holy living. How desirable and how distant is the ideal of the contemplative, artist or saint — the inner inviolable core, the single eye.

A child doesn't belong to one person

Sizewise, she's always been just smaller than me.
But I think of her and I feel like she's as big as the world.