Quotes About Birth

There's so many examples of just how lucky we are to be born anywhere in this world that is free.

I was born in Manchester, England.

I was born to strange sights. Things invisible to see . . . I know where all past years are, and who cleft the Devil's foot.

Antonina woke in the night to help midwife an animal like a giraffe (always tricky because the mother gives birth standing up, the calf falls headfirst, and the mother doesn't want help anyway). This

I am human. Like all humans, I do not remember my birth. By the time we wake up to ourselves, we are little children, and our advent is something that happened an eternity ago, at the beginning of time. We live like latecomers to the theater; we must catch up as best we can, divining the begging from the shape of later events. - Vida Winter

Todos los niños mitifican su nacimiento. Es un rasgo universal. ¿Quieres conocer a alguien? ¿Su corazón, su mente, su alma? Pídele que te hable de cuando nació. Lo que te cuente no será la verdad: será una historia. Y nada es tan revelador como una historia. Vida Winter, Cuentos de cambio y desesperación.

Un nacimiento no es, en realidad, una introducción. Nuestra vida, cuando empieza, no es realmente nuestra, sino la continuación de la historia de otro.

Our lives are so important to us that we tend to think the story of them begins with our birth. First there was nothing, then I was born... Yet that is not so. Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Families are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part without having a sense of the whole.

All children mythologize their birth. It is a universal trait. You want to know someone? Heart, mind and soul? Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won't be the truth; it will be a story. And nothing is more telling than a story.

Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won't be the truth; it will be a story.

Our lives are so important to us that we tend to think the story of them begins with our birth. First there was nothing, then I was born…Yet that is not so. Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Families are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part without having a sense of the whole.

Perhaps the effect wears off in time, or perhaps you don't notice it if you are born with it, but it does seem to me that the climate of richness must always be a little dulling to the senses. Perhaps it takes the edge off joy as well as off sorrow.

At the moment of giving birth to a child, is the mother separate from the child? You should study not only that you become a mother when your child is born, but also that you become a child.

So each round in the game is when you are alive here on Earth. Your spirit is here playing the game. Then when you die that is the end of that particular round. If you decide you want to play another round, then you are born again. Or if you want to drop out for a round or two, then you do. And time passes, and later on if you decide you want to play another round of the game you are born again.

How do we stand with others when the things that separate us are imposed at birth, when the separation haunts us and follows us day and night?

When a long-desired baby is born, what joy! More happiness than we find in sex, more than we take in success, revenge, or wealth. But should the same infant die, would you measure the horror on the same rule? Grief weighs down the seesaw, joy cannot budget it.

It's funny what happens to you when part of your heart gets born inside somebody else.

Old age, sickness, death. No escape for anyone. Even the beautiful ones were like soft fruit about to spoil. And yet somehow people still kept fucking and breeding and popping out new fodder for the grave, producing more and more new beings to suffer like this was some kind of redemptive, or good, or even somehow morally admirable thing: dragging more innocent creatures into the lose-lose game. Squirming

But one mustn't underestimate the primal appeal—to lose one's self, lose it utterly. And in losing it be born to the principle of continuous life, outside the prison of mortality and time.

there is to me about this place a smell of rot, the smell of rot that ripe fruit makes. Nowhere, ever, have the hideous mechanics of birth and copulation and death - those montrous upheavals of life that the Greeks call miasma, defilement - been so brutal or been painted up to look so pretty; have so many people put so much faith in lies and mutability and death death death.

Men may be born in dark places of the earth, like these wise men, and yet like them be made "wise unto salvation.

in the beginning. Thank you, Black Entertainment Television (BET

Ils étaient les hommes et les femmes du sable, du vent, de la lumière, de la nuit. Ils étaient apparus, comme dans un rêve, en haut d'une dune, comme s'ils étaient nés du ciel sans nuages.

Me preguntaba si aquella seguridad en sí mismos era algo que podía adquirirse o si, como los padres y la piel perfecta, era algo con lo que nacías.