Maternal love, like an orange tree, buds and blossoms and bears at once. When a woman puts her finger for the first time into the tiny hand of her baby and feels that helpless clutch which tightens her very heartstrings, she is born again with her newborn child.— Kate Douglas Wiggin
Spectacular Baby Hand quotations
You have more power, more control than you could possibly imagine.
My heart is in your hands. That's not bullshit. I'm not saying stuff I think you want to hear in order to manipulate you. I can't be any more honest than this. I'm yours, baby. I'm putting it out there. My heart, my soul, it all belongs to you.
Do the Clam, do the Clam, grab your barefoot baby by the hand.
I couldn't help shaking my head as I looked at him.
Ian slept like a baby every morning - well, a baby who continually kept one hand down his pants.
I pity the babies whose mothers are busy texting trivialities instead of playing with their children; I pity the children who are tethered to their cell phones instead of playing ball; I pity the adolescents who are wasting their best years holding one of those artefacts instead of the hand of another young person.
The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.
We all experience 'soul moments' in life-when we see a magnificent sunrise, hear the call of the loon, see the wrinkles in our mother's hands, or smell the sweetness of a baby. During these moments, our body, as well as our brain, resonates as we experience the glory of being a human being.
I am sentimental,’ she said. ‘I could dissect a koala but not its baby. I like the words damozel, eglantine, elegant. I love when you kiss my elongated white hand.
Ethiopia didn't just blow my mind; it opened my mind. Anyway, on our last day at this orphanage a man handed me his baby and said, 'Would you take my son with you?' He knew, in Ireland, that his son would live, and that in Ethiopia, his son would die.
You are only as invincible as your smallest weakness, and those are tiny indeed - the length of a sleeping baby's eyelash, the span of a child's hand. Life turns on a dime, and - it turns out - so does one's conscience.
Paddy was in the delivery room when the midwife handed him a black baby.
"Is this yours?" she asked "probably" said Paddy "she burns everything else"
On the one hand I have very traditional values: I'm looking for love and want a baby one day. On the other hand, I have a secret and rebel side, that I maybe took from an Australian mom who handed down to me the love for adventure and freedom. And sometimes I feel a bit offbeat.
Honey Boo Boo is a handful, baby. She says what she wants to say, does what she wants to do. Ive only seen, like, snippets, like one or two or three, you know, little shots of her, but yeah, shes a handful, baby.
Ama wipes her hands on her apron, looks up at our old roof with new eyes, and lifts the baby from his basket. She twirls him in the air, her skirts flying around her ankles the way the clouds swirl around the mountain cap--her laughter fresh and strange and musical to my ears.
Long before I learned to do a sum in arithmetic or describe the shape of the earth, Miss Sullivan had taught me to find beauty in the fragrant woods, in every blade of grass, and in the curves and dimples of my baby sister's hand.
Sleep on, Baby, on the floor, Tired of all the playing, Sleep with smile the sweeter for That you dropped away in! On your curls' full roundness stand Golden lights serenely-- One cheek, pushed out by the hand, Folds the dimple inly.
The ability and desire to transform the mundane materials at hand that we both bring into the collaboration well beyond the sum total of the parts - to birth a new baby neither of us could claim single parentage of.
Vaccination programs were instituted in the late 1930s, and the first handful of autistic babies were noted in the early 1940s. When vaccination programs were expanded after the war, the number of autistic children increased greatly.
The boy and girl going hand in hand through a meadow;
the mother washing her baby; the sweet simple things in life. We have almost lost track of them.
Great artists make the roads; good teachers and good companions can point them out. But there ain't no free rides, baby. No hitchhiking. And if you want to strike out in any new direction — you go alone. With a machete in your hand and the fear of God in your heart.
There’s nowhere to escape,” Dobey said, jamming his hands into his pockets and staring into the Valley. That’s not true, baby,” said Desiree. She took his hands and pulled him to her, wrapping her legs around his torso. She could feel the sobs in both of them, but quiet, silenced by the kiss. They could escape inside each other.
My thumbprint is on every single thing that happens with Hellboy.
It was the hardest thing I ever had to do professionally, letting someone else draw the main Hellboy comic. He's so much mine. But I still have no intention of ever handing over the writing of the main Hellboy comic to someone else. That character is my baby.
And then I saw the menu, stained with tea and beautifully written by a foreign hand, and on top it said..."Chips with everything". Chips with every damn thing. You breed babies and you eat chips with everything.
conversation is like a dear little baby that is brought in to be handed round.
You must rock it, nurse it, keep it on the move if you want it to keep smiling.
I see a woman in the night with a baby in her hand, under an old street light near a garbage can.
The truth was I knew, after all those flat January days, that I deserved better.
I deserved I love yous and kiwi fruits and warriors coming to my door, besotted with love. I deserved pictures of my face in a thousand expressions, and the warmth of a baby's kick beneath my hand. I deserved to grow, and to change, to become all the girls I could be over the course of my life, each one better than the last.
With a new familiarity and a flesh-creeping homeliness entirely of this unreal, materialistic world, where all sentiment is coarsely manufactured and advertised in colossal sickly captions, disguised for the sweet tooth of a monstrous baby called the Public, the family as it is, broken up on all hands by the agency of feminist and economic propaganda, reconstitutes itself in the image of the state.
Each home has been reduced to the bare essentials -- to barer essentials than most primitive people would consider possible. Only one woman's hands to feed the baby, answer the telephone, turn off the gas under the pot that is boiling over, soothe the older child who has broken a toy, and open both doors at once. She is a nutritionist, a child psychologist, an engineer, a production manager, an expert buyer, all in one. Her husband sees her as free to plan her own time, and envies her; she sees him as having regular hours and envies him.
It's always when you think that you've lost a little of the baby weight that someone steps in grabs a handful of a now sans baby soft belly and asks the inevitable 'When are you due?'
I don't like to leave what I'm going to eat in other people's hands, so I'll pack my own lunch. I chop up a salad with lots of greens - everything from spinach, baby spinach, arugula, cucumber, avocado, radish, cauliflower, and green olives to parsley and cilantro, all chopped really fine - with a piece of wild salmon. I even bring my own tea in a Thermos.
I don't like running when I'm holding things in my hand, whether it's a dog leash or a baby jogger. My mechanics get all messed up.
Somehow when you see a politician kiss a baby, shake a hand -- kiss anything -- it is tainted.
I believe that God protected me. I've experienced many miracles. One day, my father was arrested as I stood nearby on the street. A total stranger who was pushing a baby carriage took my hand and put it on the handle of the carriage, as if I were her child. As soon as it was safe for me, she let me walk home.
You kind of go through situations that don't work out, and then all of a sudden you have this baby in your hands and you forget about all of that. You forget about the last three years of your life. You just realize that everything unfolded exactly the way it was supposed to unfold.
One of my earliest memories is of bashing the keyboard with my hands, my chubby little baby hands, and I remember the sound hitting my face. It became my toy.