Mamas Baby Boy Quotes

So, when it comes to eating healthy, it's just doing the right thing. And it's not something you have to do 365 days a year, but I think it's something you have to do 25 days a month. Let's put it that way. ~ Mike Ditka

How about after I'm a hundred percent, we have a hot, torrid affair. It'd be good for my emotional and mental health."

"My man would crush you like a bug, skinny boy. It's too bad my sister's only eighteen."

"Eighteen's legal."

"You go near my baby sis, I'll put you back in this hospital. ~ Nora Roberts

No, Mr Crawford!' cried Philippa forbiddingly, and ducking under the snatching arms that tried to prevent her, she ran forward. 'No! What harm can Sir Graham do now? What might the little boy become?' And sinking on her knees, she shook, in her vehemence, Lymond's bloodstained arm. 'You castigate the Kerrs and the Scotts and the others, but what is this but useless vengeance? He can do us no harm; he can do Scotland no harm; he can do Malta no harm. There is a baby!' said Philippa, very loudly and insistently and desperately, as if Lymond could not hear her, or were too tired or too simple to understand. 'There is a baby. You can't abandon your son! ~ Dorothy Dunnett

There is a light that glimmers along the darkening edge of an infinite horizon. In that light the heart finds what the heart seeks. In that light, Dumbo goes where his beloved Zombie goes. In that light, a boy named Ben Parish finds his baby sister. In that light, Marika saves a little girl called Teacup. In that light promises are kept, dreams realized, time redeemed.
And Zombie's voice speeding Dumbo toward the light "You made it private. You found me."
No darkness slamming down. No endless fall into lightlessness. All was light when I felt Dumbo's soul break the horizon.
Lost, found, and all was light. ~ Rick Yancey

I was an avid reader of Surf Life magazine, and I was surprised to discover a write-up of our Tasmanian visit. It made me proud to read how impressed those guys were with Steve's surfing abilities. One incident that didn't make the article was when Steve came partway to shore while I watched him from the beach. All of a sudden he stripped off his wet suit. It was winter and quite cold.
"What are you doing?" I called out.
He stood in the icy water. "This is how dedicated I am to having a boy baby," he said, with a mischievous grin.
I said, "I think you're just supposed to keep them cool, not actually freeze them off."
He laughed. But I knew this was Steve's way of encouraging me to stick to the boy-baby diet. Did I mention that I could not eat chocolate? The sacrifices we make for love. ~ Terri Irwin

James was stiff, and his arm was asleep, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the kink out of his neck, but he had a baby boy sleeping like a rock on his chest and a gorgeous woman sleeping like a rock up against his side, her cheek on his chest, some of her hair clutched in the baby's fist, and a shaggy dog sleeping like a rock on his left foot. James wouldn't have moved for a million dollars. ~ Erin Nicholas

But the one great shocking occasion, when tens or hundreds or thousands will join with you, never comes. That's the difficulty. If the last and worst act of the whole regime had come immediately after the first and smallest, thousands, yes, millions would have been sufficiently shocked - if, let us say, the gassing of the Jews in '43 had come immediately after the 'German Firm' stickers on the windows of non-Jewish shops in '33. But of course this isn't the way it happens. In between come all the hundreds of little steps, some of them imperceptible, each of them preparing you not to be shocked by the next. Step C is not so much worse than Step B, and, if you did not make a stand at Step B, why should you at Step C? And so on to Step D.

And one day, too late, your principles, if you were ever sensible of them, all rush in upon you. The burden of self-deception has grown too heavy, and some minor incident, in my case my little boy, hardly more than a baby, saying 'Jewish swine,' collapses it all at once, and you see that everything, everything, has changed and changed completely under your nose. The world you live in - your nation, your people - is not the world you were born in at all. The forms are all there, all untouched, all reassuring, the houses, the shops, the jobs, the mealtimes, the visits, the concerts, the cinema, the holidays. But the spirit, which you never noticed because you made the lifelong mistake of identifying it with the forms, is changed. Now y ~ Milton Sanford Mayer

Take off that coat,' he told him.
'Sir?'
'You heard me.'
The boy slipped out of his jacket, whining, 'What you gonna do? What I'm gonna wear?'
The man untied the baby from her chest and wrapped it in the boy's coat, knotting the sleeves in front.
'What I'm gonna wear?'
The old man sighed and, after a pause, said, 'You want it back then go head and take it off that baby. Put the baby naked in the grass and put your coat back on. And if you can do it, then go on 'way somewhere and don't come back. ~ Toni Morrison

Seeing a big scratch on Andy's cheek, he tried again. "You win this fight?" he
touched the little boy's cheek lightly.
Andy's eyes filled with tears. "I fallded down."
"Fell," Jordan corrected automatically.
"DADDY!! COME HERE!!" JD commanded furiously. He stomped off to
behind the sofa. Jordan rolled his eyes and followed.
Leaning down, Jordan whispered, "What?"
JD had on his 'frog face'. The one he wore when grownups have been bad.
Brows wrinkled, mouth all scrunched and frowny, hands on hips, all 33 inches
of righteous indignation, he hissed, "He be's just a baby. He dunna talk good
yet."
Jordan cocked his eyebrow at his son.
"I'm a big boy, Daddy. I know this stuff. ~ Grasshopper

The little child who was to have done so much was born before the turf was planted on its father's grave. It was a boy; and I, my husband, and my guardian gave him his father's name. The help that my dear counted on did come to her, though it came, in the eternal wisdom, for another purpose. Though to bless and restore his mother, not his father, was the errand of this baby, its power was mighty to do it. When I saw the strength of the weak little hand and how its touch could heal my darling's heart and raised hope within her, I felt a new sense of the goodness and the tenderness of God. ~ Charles Dickens

My boy doesn't want to come out of there baby, he missed his mama. ~ Jordan Silver

I hope you will love your baby. I hope it will be a boy. That husband of yours, I hope, will always treat you well, because otherwise my specter shall come out of him, like black smoke, like a demented giant, and pull him apart nerve by nerve ... I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Her mother had smelled of cold and scales, her father of stone dust and dog. She imagined her husband's mother, whom she had never met, had a whiff of rotting apples, though her stationary had stunk of baby powder and rose perfume. Sally was starch, cedar, her dead grandmother sandalwood, her uncle, swiss cheese. People told her she smelled like garlic, like chalk, like nothing at all. Lotto, clean as camphor at his neck and belly, like electrified pennies at the armpit, like chlorine at the groin. She swallowed. Such things, details noticed only on the edges of thought would not return.
'Land,' Mathilde said, 'odd name for a guy like you.'
'Short for Roland,' the boy said.
Where the August sun had been steaming over the river, a green cloud was forming. It was still terrifically hot, but the birds had stopped singing. A feral cat scooted up the road on swift paws. It would rain soon.
'Alright Roland,' Mathilde said, suppressing as sigh, 'sing your song. ~ Lauren Groff

She thinks that if her son were to come home now it would be like waking from a dream. She would feel again. But the boy will not come home, and though she will not allow herself to know this, she knows it anyway. And so she makes brownies for the memory of her baby. She can't help herself---faint comfort is better than no comfort at all, you see? Her world is very cold, and this is the thing she warms herself over with.' Jennifer looked at the old woman cooking eggs in the kitchen and smiled sadly. 'It is a heart coal. ~ Scott Hawkins, The Library At Mount Char

Do not mock my baby." He pulls away and strokes his palm over he seat. "She was my first love."
"Well your current ... er ... girl, is getting jealous with all the attention you're paying your first love, and she has orifices you can stick things in without having your boy bits burnt off."
He pulls me into him again and his mouth goes to work on my neck. "Fuck I love it when you talk dirty. ~ Carmen Jenner

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. ~ Alice Munro

Come out, come out, little Harry!" she called in her mock-baby voice, which echoed off the polished wooden floors. "What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!"

"I am!" shouted Harry, and a score of ghostly Harrys seemed to chorus I am! I am! I am! all around the room.

"Aaaaaah... did you love him, little baby Potter?"

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed "Crucio!"

Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with the pain as Neville had -- she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the garden fountain again -- her counterspell hit the head of the handsome wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain -- to enjoy it -- righteous anger won't hurt me for long -- I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson--! ~ J.K. Rowling

So your theory is that Nancy plans to marry Samuel, pass off as her own the child he fathered on her maid, and then raise it, assuming it's a boy, to be heir to the title. That doesn't gain Nancy much, does it? It's not her son, and she's not Samuel's only lover. He and his mistress and the son get everything; she gets only the privilege of knowing she's married to a seducer."
Dom ignored the fact that some of what she said made sense. "She gains an exalted rank as mother to the new viscount. She gains a husband she's always coveted. And she might not even care if Samuel was having an affair with her maid--you said yourself that Nancy wasn't fond of the intimate side of marriage."
The moment Jane paled, he realized what he'd said. Something highly inappropriate. Something that revealed just how frank he and Jane had been in their conversations. God only knew what Blakeborough would make of that.
Bloody hell. Whatever it was, it wouldn't help Dom's situation with Jane any. Not that any of this would. Damn Nancy for coming between them yet again.
Jane's gaze turned stormy as she poked him in the chest. "You've got it all figured out, don't you? But as usual, you ignore all the ways that your theory doesn't fit."
He stared her down. "Such as what?"
Again she poked him in the chest. "Why did Samuel mention coming to London to see a doctor if they were sure that Nancy had lost the baby?" Another poke. "Why did she leave York in such strange circumstan ~ Sabrina Jeffries

At last they came to the lower slopes of the great mountains. Here she met a wild and bedraggled boy. He stumbled across her when she had stopped to rest and suckle the baby. The boy stared at the unlikely pair for a moment, then seated himself on the ground at a respectful distance, obviously preparing to converse. He was the strangest looking boy she had ever seen. Evidently a changeling like herself, for he was tall and straight with long slender limbs, but his hair was golden like the sun and his eyes a deep blue like the sky. He looked to be about fifteen years old, not quite a man, yet man enough to survive. She guessed he must have originated from the fabled district of Shor, in the far south, where it was rumoured that all the people were changelings, and all golden-haired.
Astelle tensed, fully expecting Torking to deliver one of his pain bolts to the curious boy, but the child seemed unperturbed, and simply carried on suckling. This boy's attention was obviously not deemed as a threat. She relaxed and smiled at the youth.
He returned the smile, white teeth startling against his tanned and dirty face. 'Why are you travelling all alone?' he asked.
Encouraged by Torking's mindwhispers, Astelle managed to concoct a story very close to the truth.
'As you can see, my child is rather unusual,' she explained. 'I could not bear to raise him among mortals who would constantly deride and insult him – and his father has left me, so I had no choice but to run ~ Bernie Morris

As parents we carry the blueprints, the dreams of what our family could be. The plans change, the whole thing goes way over budget, there are unexpected additions, and the work never ends. Still, through the messiness of construction we see each other with such depth and hope. Our five year-old boy is still so clearly the baby he once was and sometimes - can you see it? - the young man he will one day be. We draw energy and inspiration from our dreams; our simple, common motivations.
SIMPLICITY PARENTING ~ Lisa Ross

I'd love kids. I'm obsessed with babies. Of course I've thought about baby names. A million times. I like Alfie for a little boy. ~ Cheryl Cole

WHAT'S WRONG WITH ASSHOLES, BABY? YOU'VE GOT AN ASSHOLE, I'VE GOT AN ASSHOLE! YOU GO TO THE STORE AND BUY A PORTERHOUSE STEAK, THAT HAD AN ASSHOLE! ASSHOLES COVER THE EARTH! IN A WAY TREES HAVE ASSHOLES BUT YOU CAN'T FIND THEM, THEY JUST DROP THEIR LEAVES. YOUR ASSHOLE, MY ASSHOLE, THE WORLD IS FULL OF BILLIONS OF ASSHOLES. THE PRESIDENT HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE CARWASH BOY HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE JUDGE AND THE MURDERER HAVE ASSHOLES ... EVEN THE PURPLE STICKINPIN HAS AN ASSHOLE! ~ Charles Bukowski

The cave floor rumbled. A large stone emerged from the dirt-a smooth, oval rock exactly the same size and weight as a baby god ... She wrapped the stone in swaddling clothes and gave the real baby Zeus to the nymphs to take care of ... She marched right up to King Cannibal and shouted, This is the best baby yet! A fine little boy named, uh, Rocky! ~ Rick Riordan

He doesn't know anything yet. He knows I fell for a boy. He knows I had a baby. All he knows are the first lines of a song. He hasn't even heard the melody yet. ~ Alessandra Torre

I have this love for Mattie. It was formed in me as he himself was formed. It has his shape, you might say. He fits it. He fits into it as he fits into his clothes. He will always fit into it. When he gets out of the car and I meet him and hug him, there he is, him himself, something of my very own forever, and my love for him goes all around him just as it did when he was a baby and a little boy and a young man grown. ~ Wendell Berry

You can love someone, hell, you can love a lot of someones, but when you find the right person--the one that you're meant to be with--it's like..." "You can breathe for the first time," she finishes for me. "Yes." I cant help but smile.I needed to find that to understand." And you have," She says softly."Lucy." "Lucy," I agree. ~ Cheryl McIntyre

Living in the bush teaches you that life is a magnificent cycle of birth and death, and nothing showed me that more powerfully than when Nana gave birth to a beautiful baby boy around the time of Lawrence's passing.

Of course I named him Lolo. ~ Francoise Malby Anthony

I think that it gave me a really strong feeling of my life force and a confidence in myself. I felt like I was a man. Before that point for some reason, I always felt I was a boy (laughter). In fact, they called me the baby on the ship 'cause I was the youngest guy on the ship. But I always felt that way. ~ Haskell Wexler

Now that we all have partners, all husbands should come pick up their
projects."
Pick up our project? Shrugging, I stand up and stretch my arms. Henry also stands. "No way, dude," I say. "I'm the man in this relationship."
"Oh yeah, absolutely," he says, grinning. He sits back down as I walk to the closet to see this project, which turns out to be one of those fake
electronic babies. Oh good God. Ms. Bonner hands me a fake baby boy. The doll has these creepy glass eyes that look like they're staring straight
into my soul. I hold the doll out in front of me like it's a flaming bag of poo and carry it back to Henry.
"Congratulations, Mommy," I say, dropping the doll into his hands. You could've told me I knocked you up. ~ Miranda Kenneally

I may be a real bad boy, but baby I'm a real good man. ~ Tim McGraw

You want it, boy?" He pulled his prick out of his jeans.
"God, yes. That's why I'm here."
"Good." He left his jeans open, left his prick hard and pushing out. "Come on. Shower."
"Turn around." He wanted to see it. Griff went a deep red, but the man turned to show the weird, stylized whip branded into one ass cheek. Groaning, Brian reached out and touched it, traced it with his fingers. He'd done that. He'd marked his boy.
"You still clean?" Brian kept rubbing his prick back and forth across Griff's hole.
"I am. I couldn't ... I couldn't get it up with anyone else."
"Good." He grabbed the shampoo and poured it over his fingers.
"Was not. You fucked me up"
"We fucked each other up." He was not in this alone.
He couldn't wait to be inside Griff again. His wild, desperate baby boy. His fingers traced the brand on Griff's ass. His. All fucking his. Marked permanently. And Griff had let him do it. The man knew it was true. ~ Sean Michael

You're not a receptionist!" Violet cried.
"I certainly am," Shirley said. "I'm a poor receptionist who lives all by herself, and who wants very much to raise children of her own. Three children, in fact: a smartypants little girl, a hypnotized little boy, and a buck-toothed baby. ~ Lemony Snicket

a baby boy was born on January 30, 1882. "At a quarter to nine ~ Margaret Frith

I'll make you a deal. Stop the van and I'll answer any questions you want. Then you let me go."
The muscle visibly ticking at the base of his neck only added to his bad-boy sexy looks. "Baby, I ain't ever letting you go. ~ Rebecca Zanetti

I want to see the birth of my baby. Hopefully it's a boy. He can play for St. John's. ~ Jayson Williams

Shirley, "the little brown boy," as he was known in the family "Who's Who," was asleep in Susan's arms. He was brown-haired, brown-eyed and brown-skinned, with very rosy cheeks, and he was Susan's especial love. After his birth Anne had been very ill for a long time, and Susan "mothered" the baby with a passionate tenderness which none of the other children, dear as they were to her, had ever called out. Dr. Blythe had said that but for her he would never have lived. "I ~ L.M. Montgomery