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Quotations about Babies
Baby's tears are April showers. Baby's smiles are mamma's sunbeams; baby's happiness is mamma's joy. ~Ouina (Cora L. V. Scott Richmond), given through her Medium "Water Lily," "Sunbeams for My Flowers," Ouina's Canoe, 1882
A baby is an angel whose wings decrease as his legs increase. ~French proverb
In the sheltered simplicity of the first days after a baby is born, one sees again the magical closed circle, the miraculous sense of two people existing only for each other, the tranquil sky reflected on the face of the mother nursing her child. ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea, Chapter IV: Double-Sunrise
Everyone should have kids. They are the greatest joy in the world. But they are also terrorists. You'll realize this as soon as they're born and they start using sleep deprivation to break you. ~Ray Romano, "The Baby," Everything and a Kite, 1998
Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere and into here.
~George Macdonald (1824–1905), "Baby"
Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs' wings.
~George Macdonald (1824–1905), "Baby"
I love her best when she is asleep and better still when she is awake... ~L. M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island, 1915
Tears for your pink, curled hands—
They must strain to hold
The smoke-thin garments of a dream.
~Henry Bellamann, "Lullaby," c.1921
...That love-gift of our youth, an infant child... ~Aubrey de Vere (1788–1846)
Queer things, babies. They're full of power — they come in fresh and new, and reshape the lives already here — as hands moulding people into new characters — they are little unconscious creators. ~James Oppenheim, Doctor Rast, 1909
This little crib holds all for me—
Dear babe—God's greatest gift.
~W. Dayton Wegefarth (1885–1973), "Mother-Love," Smiles and Sighs, 1910
The little fat fellow was absurdly like Fred — just as round, just as red. Anne really could not say conscientiously that she thought him beautiful, but she vowed sincerely that he was sweet and kissable and altogether delightful. ~L. M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island, 1915
When babies look beyond you and giggle, maybe they're seeing angels. ~Eileen Elias Freeman, The Angels' Little Instruction Book, 1994
The first that falls from baby lips
Is Papa, Mamma: sweet it drips!
Sweeter than any other word
That by a parent heart is heard;
And oft we woo the tender strain
From the baby over again,
For our longing love of sound,
And the joy in language found...
~Sara L. Vickers Oberholtzer, "Language," Violet Lee, and Other Poems, 1873
When baby smiles in his sleep, an angel kisses him. ~Ouina (Cora L. V. Scott Richmond), given through her Medium "Water Lily," Ouina's Canoe, 1882
Don't ever tell the mother of a newborn that her baby's smile is just gas.
Adam and Eve had many advantages, but the principal one was, that they escaped teething. ~Mark Twain
The baby's cheeks were like the petals of a wild rose. ~Blanche C. Howlett, "The Forest Christening," 1925
...his babbling, berry lips... ~Emily Dickinson
Is not each and every baby the sweetest, best, and most delightful little darling that ever did or ever will exist? ~Eliza Cook, "Prize Babies," 1854
"'Every little baby is the sweetest and the best,'" quoted Mrs. Allan gaily. ~L. M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island, 1915
Baby could get anything by crying for it. At a remarkably early time of life Baby became acquainted with the value of this truth, and therefore shrieked and cried with amazing sagacity. At a word the red and purple-faced little rebel would kick, and turn up its nose, and halloo. Father, roused from his first sleep, would say something impatient, something disrespectful of babies in general; whereupon Mamma would meekly remonstrate, and then get out of bed, and walk the room with the sweetest, dearest, noisiest little precious that was ever made, — the father of the blessing rolling his head in the bed-clothes, and muttering deep bass in the sheets. ~Douglas Jerrold, Mrs. Bib's Baby, 1846 [a little altered
The baby's angel spoke.
"Cheek or chin, or knuckle or knee,
Where shall the baby's dimple be?
Where shall my finger fall and rest
When I come down to the baby's nest?
Where shall my finger's touch remain
When I awaken your babe again?"
~J. G. Holland (1819–1881)
Christie held out her arms, saying with an irresistible longing in her eyes and voice: "Let me hold her! I love babies dearly, and it seems as if it would do me more good than quarts of tea to cuddle her, if she'll let me." ~Louisa May Alcott, "Through the Mist," Work: A Story of Experience, 1873
Two starry eyes look into mine,
As though to read my soul,
Two cupid lips part with a smile
That makes a torn life whole;
Two chubby hands caress my cheek,
Its furrows disappear,
Two little arms entwine my neck,
And Paradise is here.
~W. Dayton Wegefarth (1885–1973), "Baby," Rainbow Verse: A Book of Helpful Sunny Philosophy, 1919
Goodness me!
Into the baby's mouth there goes
A fat little tootsie with five little toes!
Why baby does it, nobody knows,
Thinks they are good to eat, I suppose—
Goodness me!
~L. Frank Baum, Father Goose, His Book, 1899
A baby dances with its feet in the air ~Ruth Krauss (1901–1993), Open House for Butterflies, 1960
I've a sweetheart I love, so dearly—
She's all that is lovely and fair!—
Her eyes are as blue as the bluebells
Though, as yet, she hasn't much hair.
Her mouth is like a tiny rose bud,
Just asking for kisses from me;
And her sweet smiles are always ready
To break forth for each one to see.
Oh, my little, innocent sweetheart
Is the fairest flower that I know!
I'm sure that she's loved by the Angels;
They'll guard her where'er she may go.
~Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, "My Sweetheart" (1940s)
The birth of a new baby is like unwrapping a package that has intrigued you for the best part of a year — and finding its contents more exciting, more perfect, more wonderful than you ever dreamed. ~Pam Brown, Welcome to the New Baby, 1994, helenexley.com
Life is a flame that is always burning itself out; but it catches fire again every time a child is born. Life is greater than death, and hope than despair. ~Bernard Shaw (1856–1950)
"Why, you've got the finest baby in the world..." This is the dawn of motherhood... Its lips have a sweetness beyond words... It seems a sort of centre whence a myriad joy-bearing rays gladden the heart and soul... Oh!... there is no caress of lover with half the power of those little pink hands, as they stray about, seeking whereby to lay hold on life. And the infant glances, now turned upon the breast, now raised to meet our own! What dreams come to us as we watch the clinging nursling! All our powers, whether of mind or body, are at its service; for it we breathe and think, in it our longings are more than satisfied!...
[H]e has laughed, my dear! A laugh, a glance, a bite, a cry — four miracles of gladness which go straight into the heart and strike chords that respond to no other touch. A child is tied to our heartstrings, as the spheres are linked to their creator; we cannot think of God except as a mother's heart writ large...
The... delicate flower-like fingers... Oh! those baby feet, how plainly they talk to us! In them the child finds its first language... Those cries, they go to your heart and not your ears; those smiling eyes and lips, those plunging feet, they speak in words which could not be plainer if God traced them before you in letters of fire!
What else is there in the world to care about?... The sweet consciousness of a common life is ample recompense for all the trouble and suffering... ~Honoré de Balzac (1799–1850), Letters of Two Brides, 1840, translated by Clara Bell and R. S. Scott, 1899
Little, clutching hands, so dear,
Grasping everything that's near,
Reaching for each thing in sight,
Baby hands, so soft and white!...
How you pull at our heart strings
As you dance and as you sing!
Baby, dear, to us you bring
Comfort and eternal Spring!
~Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, "Baby Hands" (1940s)
And so you think a baby is a thing of beauty and a joy forever?... A sore-faced baby with a neglected nose cannot be conscientiously regarded as a thing of beauty, and inasmuch as babyhood spans but three short years, no baby is competent to be a joy "forever." It pains me thus to demolish two-thirds of your pretty sentiment in a single sentence, but the position I hold in this chair requires that I shall not permit you to deceive and mislead the public with your plausible figures of speech. I know a female baby aged eighteen months, in this city, which cannot hold out as a "joy" twenty-four hours on a stretch, let alone "forever." ~Mark Twain, 1865
Babies cost a lot in nervous wear and tear. But give one smile, and all the debt is paid. ~Pam Brown, Welcome to the New Baby, 1994, helenexley.com
God's interest in the human race is nowhere better evinced than in obstetrics. ~Martin H. Fischer (1879–1962)
“What fragrant garden of far away,”
I heard the ones who love me say,
“What garden gave its blooms to you?
O blossom-baby, tell us true!”
In the Sleepsin Garden behind the Moon,
That drowsy garden with poppies strewn,
We babies wait till we come to earth,
And the moon flowers shape us for our birth.
The tulip molds our cheek so round,
The sweetpea gives us an ear for sound.
The lily smoothes our forehead fair,
And the milkweed silk is our baby hair.
And long I dreamed in the leafy bower,
My pillow a sweet magnolia flower.
That’s why my neck is waxy and white,
And fragrant and pure for your delight.
I found a bud on a small rose tree,
And loved it so much that it grew to me.
This sweet little trifle you call a nose,
Is really the bud of a little pink rose.
I’ve never really found out yet
Whether brown heart’s-ease or violet
Gave these bright eyes to your little tot,
Or was it the sweet forget-me-not?
I drank my dew in little sips
From wild rose petals: they gave me lips.
Some dew spilled over into my eyes,
And I’m saving it up for future cries.
I wonder what wonderful beautiful flower
Gave me my fingers? I think by the hour.
But my soft little comical playful toes
Are pussy willows, I suppose.
Of course I laugh at “tick-tick, tick-tock,”
For it makes me think of my four-o’clock.
She loved to hold her wee watch to my ear,
In the Sleepsin Garden, for me to hear.
I slept so long in an apple tree,
That the buds made dents all over me.
Dimples, you call them, so pink and small,
If you counted an hour, you couldn’t count all.
One day, laughing, I hid my head
In lily-of-the-valley’s bed.
She whispered, “Not a toothie yet!
I’ll have to blossom for the pet!”
And once I woke from a pansy nap,
And put on a bud for a thinking cap.
The sweet little thoughts that come to me,
The pansies whispered them, you see.
The poppy taught me how to sleep,
The violet taught me how to creep.
The stately lily took my hand,
And breathed, “Come, darling, try to stand!”
But none of the flowers knew how to walk,
And none of them could really talk.
And I longed so much for parents dear,
God gave me a soul and sent me here.
~Melcena Burns Denny (1876–1974), "The Sleepsin Garden," The Book of Baby Mine, 1915
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