I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.
— Robert Munsch
Sensational Sweet Baby quotations
It stands to reason that we love chocolate cake because it is sweet.
Guys go for girls like this because they are sexy. We adore babies because they're so cute. And, of course, we are amused by jokes because they are funny. This is all backwards. It is. And Darwin shows us why.
You can’t save others from themselves because those who make a perpetual muddle of their lives don’t appreciate your interfering with the drama they’ve created. They want your poor-sweet-baby sympathy, but they don’t want to change.
It stands to reason that we love chocolate cake because it is sweet.
Guys go for girls like this because they are sexy. We adore babies because they're so cute. And, of course, we are amused by jokes because they are funny. This is all backwards. It is. And Darwin shows us why.
Sweet is the voice of a sister in the season of sorrow.
A sweet new blossom of humanity, fresh fallen from God's own home, to flower on earth
Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
The suckling relationship is one of the sources of real sweetness that we have in human existence...The suckling baby can teach adults about the expression of sweet love and gratitude in a way no words can.
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.
My name is indigenous to my country, it is not easy to pronounce, it takes effort to say correctly and I am absolutely in love with the sound of it and its meaning. Also, it's not the kind of name you baby, slip into sweet talk mid sentence, late night phone conversation, whisper into the receiver kind of name, so, of that I am glad.
Heaven is laying in my sweet baby's arms, hell is when my baby's not here.
Here she was, a women who could bolt-load a crossbow in under a second, put half a dozen long arrows in the air in fewer than five, blade a target dead through the sweet spot at six meters, on the run, on an off day; and yet knitting a pair of baby booties seemed completely beyond her power.
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.
I love you baby goodnight. There goes my life
A baby is an inestimable blessing and bother.
Though you may hear me holler, And you may see me cry-- I'll be dogged, sweet baby, If you gonna see me die.
England is, after all, the land where children are beaten, wives and babies bashed, football hooligans crunch, and Miss Whip and Miss Lash ply their trade as nowhere else in the western world.
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.
…he murmured. “Of course, you’re my favorite ride.” “Aw, that’s sweet, baby. And you’re my favorite joystick.
Sweet weeping baby Jesus he has a six-pack to beat all six-packs!
You will never know the exquisite pain of the guy who goes home alone.
Cause without the bitter, baby, the sweet ain't as sweet.
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.
Christmas in Bethlehem. The ancient dream: a cold, clear night made brilliant by a glorious star, the smell of incense, shepherds and wise men falling to their knees in adoration of the sweet baby, the incarnation of perfect love.
America the Beautiful, or so you used to be, Land of the Pilgrims' pride, I'm glad they're not here to see, Babies piled in dumpsters, abortion on demand, Oh, sweet land of liberty, your house is on the sand.
I mean, I'm a war baby, and we had rationing, and we didn't have sugar and sweets, which is very good for you in actual fact. Because when we had a piece of fruit, we'd gulp it down. It was just great.
First of all, these lenders are not babies.
These are total killers. These are not the nice, sweet little people you think. You're living in a world of make-believe.
Flowers are like the sweet babies of the nature; they make us to smile.
Move into kiss those sweet sugar lips, baby looks just like love.
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.
I want to stop and thank you baby, how sweet it is to be loved by you.
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. On the one side, we over-intellectualize everything; on the other hand, we are over-mechanized. We can understand the danger of the atomic bomb, but the danger of our misunderstanding the meaning of life is much more serious.
I think I'm going to give my baby her first food on Thanksgiving, make her some organic sweet potato. I'm very excited! It's going to be a big day and my husband is in charge of the turkey - he's the chef of the family!
Fiftey years isn't too bad. With luck you might see it happen when your a sweet,old granny,dandling big fat babies on your knee. Actully"-he held up a hand,interrupting Kitty's cry of protest-"no,that's wrong. My projection is incorrect." "Good." "You'll never be a sweet old granny. Let's say,'sad,lonely old biddy' instead.
Is there something wrong?” he asked.
She gave a short negative motion with her head. And then words, so sweet, like a cool northern breeze blowing off the lake. “You could hold me now.” It was almost his undoing. “Ah baby.