Quotes About Fertility

We waste those eggs like crazy, of course, flushing them out every month in days of bleeding, but then most sperm are wholly useless as well, a thought to be considered elsewhere at greater length.

We all come from a woman. We have to make love.

Was mir auf die Nerven ging: die Molche in jedem Tümpel, in jeder Eintagspfütze ein Gewimmel von Molchen - überhaupt diese Fortpflanzerei überall, es stinkt nach Fruchtbarkeit, nach blühender Verwesung. Wo man hinspuckt, keimt es!

Women been gittin' pregnant ever since Eve ate that apple.

You do know what happens at Easter!" Ceolnoth demanded sternly. "Of course I know," I said, "we make babies." "That is the most ridiculous..." Ceolberht began to protest, then went silent when his brother glared at him. "It's my favourite feast," I continued happily. "Easter is baby-making day!

why prefer a god who wants you to torture yourself instead of worshipping Eostre who wants you to take a girl into the woods and make babies?

I want a baby from an Italian - possibly Sicilian - donor.

Despite amazing advances in fertility to help older women get pregnant, the complications, increased chances of autism, and chromosomal abnormalities are significant considerations.

Egg laying is the main thing, Lily. She's the mother of every bee in the hive, and they all depend on her to keep it going. I don't care what their job is--they know the queen is their mother. She's the mother of thousands.

Old Woman I meet you deep inside myself. There in the rootbed of fertility, World without end, as the legend tells it. Under the words you are my silence.

contemplate the fertility I hope for in my fifties and beyond—the regeneration of my creativity, the refinement of my spirituality, a new relationship with my body, the rediscovery of my daughter, indeed an inner culmination I cannot fully articulate to myself—I realize it cannot be plotted, orchestrated, controlled, and forced to bloom.

Que mes seins te provoquent Je veux ta rage. Je veux voir tes yeux s'épaissir Tes joues blanchir en se creusant. Je veux tes frissons. Que tu éclates entre mes cuisses Que mes désirs soient exaucés sur le sol fertile De ton corps sans pudeur.

Black, in Egyptian cosmology, was the color of fertility and life everlasting—the color of good, rich soil without which there is no survival.

Women are sacred and powerful because they can give life, because their bodies reflect the lunar phases, because the emergence of womanhood and fertility is announced by the rhythmic shedding of magical blood (and in many tribal societies, just as in many offices or wherever women live closely together, menstruation becomes synchronized and frequently linked to a specific moon phase).

It couldn't be clearer than in the ancient tale of Isis, Mistress of Magic, who has enough power to stop the sun in the sky but can't conceive the child she is destined to bear without sexual intercourse. Isis can resurrect her dead husband long enough for a quickie, she can charm up a working gold penis because the original went missing during the resurrection process, but with all that power she is unable to conceive a child without sperm.

I know that some lesbians are getting pregnant by going to sperm banks. I couldn't do that. I'm exactly like my grandmother, "What? Everything's frozen! Nothing's fresh?"

It was a damned good thing men couldn't have children. Gregory took no shame in admitting that the human race would have died out generations earlier.

Faith grows when it is planted in the fertile soil of God's Word.

I wanted to transmit what it feels like to be on the so-called IVF emotional rollercoaster, and I guess I wanted to offer a shared aloneness to anyone who's desperately longed for a child.

While the sleep and euphoria-inducing qualities of this plant have also been known about for a long time, the idea that the poppy is a symbol of fecundity is an ancient one, especially in Anatolian folklore. "It has to be noted that the plant has always been referred to as a symbol of fertility in Anatolian folklore. Needless to say, the countless seeds contained in the poppy pod make it an ideal symbol of birth

Truth has to fall on fertile soil.

It's not a matter of wanting it or not, it's a matter of what you think you can accomplish. When the hunter goes out in the rain forest to seek food for his family, does he expect to control nature? No. He imagines that nature is beyond him. Beyond his understanding. Beyond his control. Maybe he prays to nature, to the fertility of the forest that provides for him. He prays because he knows he doesn't control it. He's at the mercy of it.

The problem is that once science has reduced a complex phenomenon to a couple of variables, however important they may be, the natural tendency is to overlook everything else, to assume that what you can measure is all there is, or at least all that really matters. When we mistake what we can know for all there is to know, a healthy appreciation of one's ignorance in the face of a mystery like soil fertility gives way to the hubris that we can treat nature as a machine.

When we mistake what we can know for all there is to know, a healthy appreciation of one's ignorance in the face of a mystery like soil fertility gives way to the hubris that we can treat nature as a machine. Once that leap has been made, one input follows another, so that when the synthetic nitrogen fed to plants makes them more attractive to insects and vulnerable to disease, as we have discovered, the farmer turns to chemical pesticides to fix his broken machine. In