Quotes About Birth

When I was born, my father was a copper miner in Butte, Montana. It was a hard-core, blue-collar situation.

To give birth is the most beautiful thing in the world.

I made a crash landing here on Earth on February 14, 1962, in the Shreveport Catholic Charities Home for un-wed mothers. The infamous Bonnie and Clyde lost their lives just miles from where I was born. Like outlaws ourselves, my birth mother and I were on the run from the day she found out I was part of her.

And she did not weep for herself, but for him: the hour after his birth she had looked in his dark eyes and had seen something that would brood there eternally, she knew, unfathomable wells of remote and intangible loneliness: she knew that in her dark and sorrowful womb a stranger had come to life, fed by the lost communications of eternity, his own ghost, haunter of his own house, lonely to himself and to the world. O lost.

imprisoned in the dark womb of our mother, we come to life without having seen her face, that we are given to her arms a stranger, and that, caught in that insoluble prison of being, we escape it never, no matter what arms may clasp us, what mouth may kiss us, what heart may warm us. Never, never, never, never, never.

He was the tallest and the strongest of all the children ever born to Doctor and Mrs Noyes and the first of them to survive.

One is born with a unique set of talents and abilities. One must choose which of those talents to nurture, which to set aside for a time, which to ignore completely. Sometimes

Yesterday, the Chimaera's crew had trusted and respected the Grand Admiral. After today, they would be ready to die for him. And for the first time in five years, Pellaeon finally knew in the deepest level of his being that the old Empire was gone. The new Empire, with Grand Admiral Thrawn at its head, had been born.

time was the ultimate commodity, and you were born with only so much to spend, and there was no passbook to tell you the exact amount.

BORN: 1856 George Bernard Shaw (Man and Superman, Major Barbara), Dublin 1894 Aldous Huxley (Brave New World, Crome Yellow), Godalming, England DIED: 1934 Winsor McCay

At birth, we emerge from dream soup. At death, we sink back into dream soup. In between soups, there is a crossing of dry land. Life is a portage.

Ritual he liked, but compulsory routine he hated. Thus, he resented every minute that he now had to surrender to showering, shampooing, shaving, and flossing and brushing his teeth. If mere men could devise self-defrosting refrigerators and self-cleaning ovens, why couldn't nature, in all its complex, inventive magnificence, have managed to come up with self-cleaning teeth? There's birth, he grumbled, there's death, and in between there's maintenance.

Everything that's alvie was born, and everything that was born has got to die. There's no getting around it. It's the law of the universe. The universe does not have laws. It has habits. And habits can be broken.

They warn us when we're kids that we're going to have to suffer, but they neglect to mention the indignity. What self-respecting fetus, if shown its future as a proctology patient, boot-camp recruit, or game show contestant, would still elect to be born?

The whole universe is a complex of rhythms, mused Amanda. We each of us feel a need to identify our bodily rhythms with those of the cosmos. The sea is the grand agency of rhythm. The grain-tops in the wind, the atoms that orbit are rhythmic. The uterus, which is a strong muscular organ, contracts with the birth of a baby - the rhythmic contractions, in fact, are the important motivations for the baby to emerge into the world. Rhythm is how it all begins.

Amanda became pregnant during a fierce thunderstorm. "Was it the lightning or the lover?" she was sometimes heard to muse. When her son was born with electrical eyes, people no longer thought her foolish.

We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the word for it. Before we know that there are words. Out we come, bloodied and squalling, with the knowledge that for all the points of the compass, there's only one direction. And time is its only measure.

ROS: I want to go home. Which way did we come in? I've lost my sense of direction. GUIL: The only beginning is birth and the only end is death - if you can't count on that, what can you count on?

I write the way women have babies. You don't know it's going to be like that. If you did, there's no way you would go through with it.

The last of her children, whom she barely glanced at when he was born because it wasn't worth the trouble to try to learn features you would never see change into adulthood anyway.

She did not know it then, but the word baby, said softly and with such kindness, that inaugurated her life in the world as a woman.

If I did I didn't know it. What's it like, velvet?' 'Well, Lu, velvet is like the world was just born. Clean and new and so smooth.

How old are you, Freddie?" "Who knows? They made dirt in the morning and me that afternoon.

Oh meraviglia! Amor, ch'a pena è nato, già grande vola, e già trionfa armato.