Goodbye Baby Blue Quotes

She would lie awake,
Every night I'd hear her cry
Her mind in slow decay,
I guess she couldn't take goodbye ~ Ray Wilson

The women in the kitchen took turns making a fuss over the baby, acting like it was their job to keep her entertained until the Magi arrived. But the baby wasn't entertained. Her blue eyes were glazed over. She was staring into the middle distance, tired of everything. All this rush to make sandwiches and take in presents for a girl who was not year a year old. ~ Ann Patchett

Quite honestly, a baby covered in blood, still slightly blue, eyes screwed up, in the first few minutes after birth, is not an object of beauty. ~ Jennifer Worth

Minutes passed by. A little blue butterfly landed on my nose. I blinked at it and it fluttered to my ear. A big yellow butterfly gently floated over and landed on my paw. Soon a whole swarm of them floated up and down around me, like a swirl of multicolored petals. It happened in my backyard, too, if the magic was strong enough. Butterflies were small and light, and very magic sensitive. For some reason I made them feel safe and they gravitated to me like iron shavings to a magnet. They ruined my ferocious badass image, but you'd have to be a complete beast to swat butterflies.
If a baby deer frolicked out from between the buildings trying to cuddle up, I would roar. I wouldn't bite it, but I would roar. I had my limits. ~ Ilona Andrews

LONDON. TRINITY TERM one week old. Implacable June weather. Fiona Maye, a High Court judge, at home on Sunday evening, supine on a chaise longue, staring past her stockinged feet toward the end of the room, toward a partial view of recessed bookshelves by the fireplace and, to one side, by a tall window, a tiny Renoir lithograph of a bather, bought by her thirty years ago for fifty pounds. Probably a fake. Below it, centered on a round walnut table, a blue vase. No memory of how she came by it. Nor when she last put flowers in it. The fireplace not lit in a year. Blackened raindrops falling irregularly into the grate with a ticking sound against balled-up yellowing newsprint. A Bokhara rug spread on wide polished floorboards. Looming at the edge of vision, a baby grand piano bearing silver-framed family photos on its deep black shine. On the floor by the chaise longue, within her reach, the draft of a judgment. ~ Ian McEwan

When Francesca had turned to him with those bottomless blue eyes and said, 'The baby was to have been yours in a way, too,' she'd shattered him to his very soul.
She didn't know.
She had no idea.
And as long as she remained in the dark about his feelings for her, as long as she couldn't understand why he had no choice but to hate himself for every step he took in John's shoes, he couldn't be near her. Because she was going to keep saying things like that. ~ Julia Quinn

People think blood red, but blood don't got no colour. Not when blood wash the floor she lying on as she scream for that son of a bitch to come, the lone baby of 1785. Not when the baby wash in crimson and squealing like it just depart heaven to come to hell, another place of red. Not when the midwife know that the mother shed too much blood, and she who don't reach fourteen birthday yet speak curse 'pon the chile and the papa, and then she drop down dead like old horse. Not when blood spurt from the skin, on spring from the axe, the cat-o'-nine, the whip, the cane and the blackjack and every day in slave life is a day that colour red. It soon come to pass when red no different from white or blue or black or nothing. Two black legs spread wide and mother mouth screaming. A black baby wiggling in blood on the floor with skin darker than midnight but the greenest eyes anybody ever done seen. I goin' call her Lilith. You can call her what they call her. ~ Marlon James

Stephanie Robson, baby blue, my best friend and the woman with my heart. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" I take a moment to compose myself. "Will you marry me? ~ Karina Halle

Yeah,
You rocked my world forever
I know you still remember
How we felt before
Yeah,
We should be together
'Cause nothing could be better
Than the way we were
Baby, let's go back to the way we were

Let's turn back the clock
This time we'll take it slow
You can stay the night,
This time I won't let go
And when the morning comes,
We can start all over, over again

Why did we say goodbye?
Let's go back tonight ~ The Summer Set

Do you see how you hurt me, baby? So I hurt you too. Then we both get so blue. I am on a lonely road and I am traveling, looking for the key to set me free. ~ Joni Mitchell

Cesar knew better. He did. And love. Love just makes a man weak. A woman, a child - doesn't matter what face the love has, love makes you stupid, it takes you out of your character, twists you, folds you, it drags you out into deep waters and drowns you. Love has you thinking about all the things you buried. All the things you left behind. It has you thinking about your mother, who was a nurse once, wearing scrubs and coming home late, before all the fighting, before the vodka, before the heroin, before Cesar found her in the bathtub sleeping in her own blood.
Love has you crying on the couch while you're feeding your baby. Not even a month old and you're leaving him. Not because you want to, but because of love. Because you love him and you know he's better off with somebody else. Because it's the right thing to do. But righteousness doesn't take the edge of the sting. Because it hurts. Because he's looking up at you. His eyes wide in awe like you're God herself. Your son cannot understand a word that you're saying.

He doesn't understand that you're saying goodbye. ~ Daniel Abbott

Wearing Deni's huge vicuna coat with the si cap over my ears, in cold biting winds of December New York, Irwin and Simon led me up to the Russian Tea Room to meet Salvador Dali.
He was sitting with his chin on a finely decorated tile headed cane, blue and white, next to his wife at the Cafe table. He had a cane, blue and white, next to his wife at the Cafe table. He had a little wax moustache, thin. When the waiter asked him what he wanted he said 'One grapefruit...peenk!' and he had big blue eyes like a baby, a real or Spaniard. He told us no artist was great unless he made money. Was he talking about Uccello, Ghianondri, Franca? We didn't even know what money really was or what to do with it. Dali had already read an article about the 'insurgent' 'beats' and was interested. When Irwin told him (in Spanish) we wanted to meet Marlon Brando (who ate in this Russian Tea Room) he said, waving three fingers at me, 'He is more beautiful than M. Brando.'
I wondered why he said that but he probably had a tiff with old Marlon. But what he meant was my eyes, which were blue, like his, and my hair, which is black, like his, and when I looked into his eyes, and he looked into my eyes, we couldn't stand all that sadness. In fact, when Dali and I look in the mirror we can't stand all that sadness. To Dali sadness is beautiful. ~ Jack Kerouac

Life is filled with suffering, but it is also filled with many wonders, like the blue sky, the sunshine, the eyes of a baby. To suffer is not enough. We must also be in touch with the wonders of life. They are within us and all around us, everywhere, any time. ~ Nhat Hanh

Eddie turned away.
"Because I saved you, as tough as those years were for you, as bad as it was with your hand, you got to grow up, too. And because you got to grow up..."
When he turned back, Annie froze. Eddie was holding a baby boy, with a small blue cap on his head.
"Laurence?" Annie whispered.
Eddie stepped forward and placed her son in her trembling arms. Instantly, Annie was whole again, her body complete. She cradled the infant against her chest, a motherly cradle that filled her with the purest feeling. She smiled and wept and she could not stop weeping.
"My baby," she gushed. "Oh, my baby, my baby... ~ Mitch Albom

His intense blue gaze held hers, willing her to believe. She pulled in a shaky breath. Each second, he'd said. This second, then another, then another, until she believed all the time. She closed her eyes. She wanted to trust in him, in them. Why did it have to be so darn hard?

Using his hold on her wrist, he drew her closer, leaned down to rest his cheek against hers. "I'm yours," he murmured near her ear. "You have me. Believe that, baby."

She nodded and slipped her arms about his neck, holding on hard. "I'm trying."

"I know." He rested a hand against her spine, dropped a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. "One second at a time, Angel. We have all the time you need. ~ Linda Winfree

But then one morning when I'd been on night shift, she miscarried suddenly and severely. The doctor said it seemed as though she had provoked it herself. I found that hard to believe, given how much she'd been looking forward to having the baby. At any rate, there were large blue bruises on her abdomen. But it's impossible to know about these things. There are a lot of mixed feelings involved when a woman faces raising an unplanned child on her own. ~ Jussi Adler-Olsen

The tiny body was slippery, and he held her tightly, afraid she'd slither out of his grip. He rotated the infant face-up, holding her about ten inches away from his face. The top of her head had a slight cone shape. Her blue-tinged hands pinked. The baby's eyes were open, alert and seemingly amazed.
They connected with his.
A jolt of intense feeling, of recognition, flowed between them. As he gazed on the scrunched features of the infant, love surged through him. He'd never felt such a feeling before, and his chest ached with the joyful pressure. Caleb wanted to curl her to his chest and keep her safe. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling a scent that surprised him with its sweetness.
"My baby?" Maggie asked.
The infant broke eye contact with Caleb and turned her face toward the sound of her mother's voice. He blinked back moisture from his eyes and grinned. "You have a beautiful daughter. ~ Debra Holland

Seasons don't fear the Reaper, nor do the Sun, the Wind or the Rain.
We can be like they are.
Come on, baby, don't fear the Reaper. ~ Blue Oyster Cult

I roll my eyes. "I'm not asking you to take your clothes off, baby. I just want to peek at your midterm."



"Baby? Goodbye forward, hello presumptuous. ~ Elle Kennedy

She made a creche outside the Inn. The natives thought it was wonderful, and Sister Honey was gratified by their numbers.
Why have the devils with wings come to mock at the poor baby?' asked the children, pointing to the angels.
The baby is the Number One Lord Jesus Christ,' Ayah told them.
But he hasn't any clothes on! Aren't they going to give Him anything? Not a little red robe? Not a bit of melted butter?'
This is His Mother,' said Ayah, showing them the little porcelain Virgin in blue and white and pink. 'He is her child.'
That isn't true,' said the women, measuring the baby with their eyes. 'He's too big to be possible. Probably He's a dragon, an evil spirit in the shape of a child, and presently He'll eat up the woman. ~ Rumer Godden

St. Louis Blues (1929)

I hate to see de evenin' sun go down,
Hate to see de evenin' sun go down
'Cause ma baby, he done lef' dis town.
Feelin' tomorrow like I feel today,
Feel tomorrow like I feel today,
I'll pack my trunk, make ma git away.

Saint Louis woman wid her diamon' rings
Pulls dat man 'roun' by her apron strings.
'Twant for powder an' for store-bought hair,
De man ah love would not gone nowhere, nowhere.
Got de Saint Louis Blues jes as blue as ah can be.
That man got a heart lak a rock cast in the sea.

Or else he wouldn't have gone so far from me. Doggone it!
I loves day man lak a schoolboy loves his pie,
Lak a Kentucky Col'nel loves his mint an' rye.
I'll love ma baby till the day ah die.

Been to de gypsy to get ma fortune tole,
To de gypsy, done got ma fortune tole,
Cause I'm most wile 'bout ma Jelly Roll.
Gypsy done tole me, "Don't you wear no black."
Yes, she done told me, "Don't you wear no black.

Go to Saint Louis, you can win him back."
Help me to Cairo, make Saint Louis by maself,
Git to Cairo, find ma old friend Jeff,
Gwine to pin maself close to his side;
If ah flag his train, I sho' can ride.
Got de Saint Louis Blues jes as blue as ah can be.
That man got a heart lak a rock cast in the sea.

Or else he wouldn't have gone so far from me. Doggone it!
I loves day man lak a sch ~ Bessie Smith

Shepley walked out of his bedroom pulling a T-shirt over his head. His eyebrows pushed together. "Did they just leave?"

"Yeah," I said absently, rinsing my cereal bowl and dumping Abby's leftover oatmeal in the sink. She'd barely touched it.

"Well, what the hell? Mare didn't even say goodbye."

"You knew she was going to class. Quit being a cry baby."

Shepley pointed to his chest. "I'm the cry baby? Do you remember last night?"

"Shut up."

"That's what I thought." He sat on the couch and slipped on his sneakers. "Did you ask Abby about her birthday?"

"She didn't say much, except that she's not into birthdays."

"So what are we doing?"

"Throwing her a party." Shepley nodded, waiting for me to explain. "I thought we'd surprise her. Invite some of our friends over and have America take her out for a while."

Shepley put on his white ball cap, pulling it down so low over his brows I couldn't see his eyes. "She can manage that. Anything else?"

"How do you feel about a puppy?"

Shepley laughed once. "It's not my birthday, bro."

I walked around the breakfast bar and leaned my hip against the stool. "I know, but she lives in the dorms. She can't have a puppy."

"Keep it here? Seriously? What are we going to do with a dog?"

"I found a Cairn Terrier online. It's perfect."

"A what?"

"Pidge is ~ Jamie McGuire

Cecelia turned her gaze away from the girls and looked at the shimmer blue of their kidney shaped swimming pool, with its powerful underwater light, the perfect symbol of suburban bliss, except for that strange intermit sound like a baby choking that was coming from the pool filter. ~ Liane Moriarty

Amelia and Poppy both glanced at their younger sister quizzically. "Do you know what we're talking about, Bea?" Amelia asked.
"Yes, of course. Merripen's in love with her. I knew it a long time ago, from the way he washed her window."
"Washed her window?" both older sisters asked at the same time.
"Yes, when we lived in the cottage at Primrose Place. Win's room had a casement window that looked out onto the big maple tree - do you remember? After the scarlet fever, when Win couldn't get out of bed for the longest time and she was too weak to hold a book, she would just lie there and watch a birds' nest on one of the tree limbs. She saw the baby swallows hatch and learn to fly. One day she complained that the window was so dirty, she could barely see through it, and it made the sky look grayish. So from then on Merripen always kept the glass spotless. Sometimes he climbed a ladder to wash the outside, and you know how afraid of heights he is. You never saw him do that?"
"No," Amelia said with difficulty, her eyes stinging. "I didn't know he did that."
"Merripen said the sky should always be blue for her," Beatrix said. "And that was when I knew he … are you crying, Poppy?"
Poppy used a napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. "No. I just inh-haled some pepper."
"So did I," Amelia said, blowing her nose. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I am sure I loved that baby quite as truly, quite as tenderly, with greater purity and more disinterestedness, than can enter into the best love of a later time of life, high and ennobling as it is. I am sure my fancy raised up something round that blue-eyed mite of a child, which etherealised, and made a very angel of her. If, any sunny forenoon, she had spread a little pair of wings, and flown away before my eyes, I don't think I should have regarded it as much more than I had had reason to expect. ~ Charles Dickens

If you have no arms

To hold your crying child but your own arms

And no legs but your own to run the stairs one more time

To fetch what was forgotten

I bow to you

If you have no vehicle

To tote your wee one but the wheels that you drive

And no one else to worry, "Is my baby okay?"

When you have to say goodbye on the doorsteps of daycare

or on that cursed first day of school

I bow to you

If you have no skill but your own skill

To replenish an ever-emptying bank account

And no answers but your own to

Satisfy the endless whys, hows, and whens your child asks and asks again

I bow to you

If you have no tongue to tell the truth

To keep your beloved on the path without a precipice

And no wisdom to impart

Except the wisdom that you've acquired

I bow to you

If the second chair is empty

Across the desk from a scornful, judging authority waiting

For your child's father to appear

And you straighten your spine where you sit

And manage to smile and say, "No one else is coming - I'm it."

Oh, I bow to you

If your head aches when the spotlight finally shines

on your child because your hands are the only hands there to applaud

I bow to you

If your heart aches because you ~ Toni Sorenson

My anger swelled. I couldn't believe I'd come this far, lost Tyson, suffered through so much, only to fail - stopped by a big stupid monster in a baby-blue tuxedo kilt. Nobody was going to swat down my friends like that! I mean ... nobody, not Nobody. Ah, you know what I mean. ~ Rick Riordan

Quote taken from Chapter 1:
"Is Petey Samson a bloodhound for real?" Blue asked. "I could've sworn he's a mixed breed, what my folks used to call a pound mutt."
"Oh, brother," Alma said. "I wished you hadn't said that."
"I'll have you know Petey Samson is no pound mutt," Isabel said, shaking her finger at Blue. "His best breeding lies in his bloodhound line," she said.
"I didn't know that," Blue said.
"Pay no mind to Isabel," Alma said. "She's just being overprotective of her fur baby. ~ Ed Lynskey

So many faces in and out of my life Some will last Some will be just now and then. Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again. Say goodbye to Hollywood Say goodbye my baby Say goodbye to Hollywood Say goodbye my baby. ~ Billy Joel

If I were king of the world, babies born in airplanes, balloons and blimps would, instead of choosing to be German, Maldivian or American, all get special heavenly blue passports with a stork on the cover labeled 'Sky Baby' - and they'd be allowed to come and go anywhere they please. ~ Robert Krulwich

Robert Lightwood followed him.
"I couldn't help but notice that the baby is blue," Robert said. "Alec's eyes are blue. And when you do the" - he made a strange and disturbing gesture, and then made the sound whoosh, whoosh - "magic, sometimes there's a blue light."
Magnus stared at him. "I'm failing to see your point."
"If you made the baby for yourself and Alec, you can tell me," said Robert. "I'm a very broad-minded man. Or - I'm trying to be. I'd like to be. I would understand."
"If I made ... the ... baby ... ?" Magnus repeated.
He was not certain where to start. He had imagined Robert Lightwood knew how babies were made.
"Magically," Robert whispered.
"I am going to pretend you never said that to me," said Magnus. "I am going to pretend we never had this conversation."
Robert winked, as if they understood each other. Magnus was speechless. ~ Cassandra Clare

All baby clothes are adorable, whoever they're meant for (and in the end, of course, they're meant for the parents). All remind you of how vulnerable an infant is, how wholly incompetent and in need of adult largess. You don't look at blue clothes and think "strong" or pink clothes and think "fragile." You look at everything in these micromatized dimensions and think, "How precious! How ridiculous! What was evolution thinking of? ~ Natalie Angier

So they're your favorite lines, then?" I press my lips to her forehead. "My dear baby blue. Both of those quotes are about you." I pause while she looks shocked. "Hey, see I'm a poet too. ~ Karina Halle