Those who love their relatives do not dare to be evil to others; those who respect their relatives do not dare to be rude to others.
In the dark, I shed tears of missing my dear ones, but I am afraid that I will shed more tears for my dear ones.
The white-headed old mother covers the door and cries, rolling up the broken sleeves of her shirt and leaving them in place.
A loving mother loves her children not just for retribution.
The thread in a loving mother’s hand, the clothes on a wanderer’s body.
The father is kind and teaches.
The bright mirror in the high hall has sad white hair, and it looks like blue silk in the morning and snow in the evening.
My mother is one hundred years old and she often reads her eighty children.
Before departure, the cold clothes are densely stitched, and the letters home are freshly inked.
The mother says that the child is sleeping when it is dry, and the child is sleeping when the mother is wet.
The mother is in pain and the child is not seen, and the child is tired and the mother is uneasy.
When the mother's instrument hangs down, it shines brightly on the tube, and in Wusu, the light shines silently on the night stand.
People see that men and women are good at birth, but they don’t know that Luo women make people grow old.
The kindness given to a fetus in ten months is heavy, but the repayment in three lifetimes is light.
Do your best to serve your parents.
Whoever speaks an inch of grass will be rewarded with three rays of spring.
Thousands of loves, thousands of kindnesses and hundreds of hardships, but who knows my parents who love me?
Filial piety lies in substance, not in appearance.
A baby of one foot and three inches needs ten and eight years of work.
Don’t be happy if you have children, but don’t be sad if you don’t have children.
Asking for many descendants in this life, who knows how much harder it is.
The prodigal son does not feel cold when the loving mother is in front of you.