Quotes About Birth

Cele mai importante dou? zile din viaÈ›a ta sunt ziua în care te-ai n?scut È™i cea în care afli de ce.

Não tenho medo da morte. Estive morto por bilhões e bilhões de anos antes de meu nascimento, e isso nunca me causou qualquer inconveniência.

A family of ramshackle tragedy. A comic book kapow of boys and blood and beasts. We were born for relics like these.

Chapter One: It was quite fitting that the entire town was sleeping when the dream carrier was born...

Woman breed baby, but man can only make Frankenstein.

It reminds me that we are born innocent but ignorant, and that to remedy the second of these conditions we inevitably surrender the first.

Well, we cry and twist and are naked at both ends of life. We cry at both ends of life, while the doctor watches.

After living at sea for twenty years or more, the female loggerhead returns to the beach of her birth to nest. She travels hundreds of miles through the Atlantic, her three-hundred-pound, eddish-brown carapace filled with hundreds of fertile eggs.

Your father is your f-father regardless, Agnes. Birth and b-breeding do not always depend upon small matters like who provided the seed.

Yet birth, and lust, and illness, and death are changeless things, and when one of these harsh facts springs out upon a man at some sudden turn of the path of life, it dashes off for the moment his mask of civilization and gives a glimpse of the stranger and stronger face below.

Empathy plays a crucial role in the reduction of stress from the moment of birth.

Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.

Do not shorten the morning by getting up late, or waste it in unworthy occupations or in talk; look upon it as the quintessence of life, as to a certain extent sacred. Evening is like old age: we are languid, talkative, silly. Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.

How shall a man be proud, when his conception is a crime, his birth a penalty, his life a labour, and death a necessity!—

Every time a man is begotten and born the clock of human life is wound up anew, to repeat once more its same old tune that has already been played innumerable times, movement by movement and measure by measure, with insignificant variations.

A única felicidade é a de não ter nascido.

it seems to me that the idea of dignity can be applied only in an ironical sense to a being whose will is so sinful, whose intellect is so limited, whose body is so weak and perishable as man's. How shall a man be proud, when his conception is a crime, his birth a penalty, his life a labour, and death a necessity!—

une foule énorme de gens ne sont sur la terre que pour mettre finalement au monde, à la suite de longs et mystérieux croisements, un homme qui, entre mille, possédera quelque indépendance

According to Estha, if they'd been born on the bus, they'd have got free bus rides for the rest of their lives. It wasn't clear where he'd got this information from, or how he knew these things, but for years the twins harbored a faint resentment against their parents for having diddled them out of a lifetime of free bus rides.

I believe in living. I believe in birth. I believe in the sweat of love and in the fire of truth. And i believe that a lost ship, steered by tired, seasick sailors, can still be guided him to port.

Then comes what still seems surreal to me. You reach in, and instead of finding a tumor or some other abnormality, as surgeons usually do when we go into someone's belly, you find five tiny wiggling toes, a knee, a whole leg. And suddenly you realize you have a new human being struggling in your hands. You almost forget the mother on the table.

He looked like the victim of a forceps delivery.

There are only new ways of making them felt —of examining what those ideas feel like being lived on Sunday morning at 7 A.M., after brunch, during wild love, making war, giving birth, mourning our dead —while we suffer the old longings, battle the old warnings and fears of being silent and impotent and alone, while we taste new possibilities and strengths.

For there are no new ideas. There are only new ways of making them felt – of examining what those ideas feel like being lived on Sunday morning at 7 a.m., after brunch, during wild love, making war, giving birth, mourning our dead – while we suffer the old longings, battle the old warnings and fears of being silent and impotent and alone, while we taste new possibilities and strengths.