Quotes About Birth

That is the Mongolian creation myth: out of two different natures love is born. In contradiction, love grows in strength. In confrontation and transformation, love is preserved.

I am not yet born; O fill me with strength against those who would freeze my humanity.

God has never made a failure; that he gave birth to you means you are a success. Success is in your DNA.

Adev?rat, monseniore. M? simt fericit de când m? aflu aici È™i numai pentru c? m? aflu aici. Privesc cu o bucurie plin? de înduioÈ™are casele, copacii, drumurile, pe care un str?in nici nu poate s? le bage de seam?. Hot?rât, nu respiri bine, cred eu, decât aerul pe care l-ai respirat în ziua când ai venit pe lume!

It must never be forgotten that religion gave birth to Anglo-American society.

The prestige that attached to old things having disappeared, birth, condition, and profession no longer distinguish men or hardly distinguish them; there remains scarcely anything but money that creates very visible differences between them and that can set off some from their peers. The distinction that arises from wealth is increased by the disappearance and diminution of all the others.

So, in five seconds, he was born, he lived and he died. After thirty years of existence and six months of torture, Gully Foyle, the stereotype Common Man was no more. The key turned in the lock of his soul and the door was opened. What emerged expunged the Common Man for ever.

Thousands more were being born today, being conceived—women with their knees raised all over the world. Mrs.

If one of these, if a hundred of them, a thousand, came too soon or failed to thrive or were born incomplete somehow, born blue or ill made or with reason's taut string already snapped, it was of little matter in the long history of God's bustling. There

Pauline had restored order after the ordeal of the birth. She had swallowed her revulsion—what a mess it had made—restored order, made things right for the homecoming.

WHEN I was five years old my parents all of a sudden produced a baby boy, which my mother said was what I had always wanted. Where she got this idea I did not know. She did quite a bit of elaborating on it, all fictitious but hard to counter.

How we come into this world, how we are ushered in, met, and hopefully embraced upon arrival, impacts the whole of our time on earth.

Each woman is capable of truly bringing another into the world. This we must all do for each other.

Life was giving birth to children—who could have no memory of anything other than brutal enslavement—then dying and being tossed into a ravine or buried at the edge of a swamp or field.

You know me now. I'm only good at beginnings.

with my fucking suave manners and knowitall, eyes, and mind full of fantasy - the Me! that horror that keeps me conscious, in this Hell of Birth & Death

How strange to remember anything, even a button much less a universe. 'What creature gives birth to itself?' The universe is mad, slightly mad.

the weight we carry is love. Who can deny? In dreams it touches the body, in thought constructs a miracle, in imagination anguishes till born inhuman

I am not all now but a universe of skin and breath & changing thought and burning hand & softened heart in the old bed of my skin From this single birth reborn that I am to be so— My own Identity now nameless neither man nor dragon or God but the dreaming Me full of physical rays' tender red moons in my belly & Stars in my eyes circling And the Sun the Sun the Sun my visible father making my body visible thru my eyes!

You hear in the person you're destined to love the sound of those yet to be born.

Achievement is the death of endeavor and the birth of disgust.

If women lose the right to say where and how they birth their children, then they will have lost something that's as dear to life as breathing.

If women lose the right to say where and how they birth their children, then they will have lost something that's as dear to life as breathing.

In the valleys where I was born they say it is God's sword, dropped from the heavens.' 'Don't you?' asked Flood. Whirrun rubbed some dirt from the crosspiece with his thumb. 'I used too.' 'Now?' 'God makes things, no? God is a farmer. A craftsman. A midwife. God gives things life.' He tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. 'What would God want with a sword?