Cradle Songs For Baby Quotes

#1. She reached for the notebook she kept in her purse. Bea found the page and read to calm and steady herself.

1. See yourself as beautiful. Flowering and giving life to the earth. This baby can't do it without you. You are important.
2. Food is your fuel. You need it in your body. It's your sustenance.
3. When you feel overwhelmed go for a walk, write down your feelings, or play your favorite songs. #Quote by Sadeqa Johnson

#2. It's cool because you don't know how certain songs are going to go over until you play them live. For some reason, "Shivers" gets a huge response. I was not expecting it. When I start singing in the middle of "Baby Get Worse", they go nuts. Just little surprises like that. #Quote by John Britt Daniel

#3. Advice to friends. Advice to fellow mothers in the same boat. "How do you do it all?" Crack a joke. Make it seem easy. Make everything seem easy. Make life seem easy and parenthood and marriage and freelancing for pennies, writing a novel and smiling after a rejection, keeping the faith after two, reminding oneself that four years of work counted for a lot, counted for everything. Make the bed. Make it nice. Make the people laugh when you sit down to write and if you can't make them laugh make them cry. Make them want to hug you or hold you or punch you in the face. Make them want to kill you or fuck you or be your friend. Make them change. Make them happy. Make the baby smile. Make him laugh. Make him dinner. Make him proud.

Hold the phone, someone is on the other line. She says its important. People are dying. Children. Friends. Press mute because there is nothing you can say. Press off because you're running out of minutes. Running out of time. Soon he'll be grown up and you'll regret the time you spent pushing him away for one more paragraph in the manuscript no one will ever read. Put down the book, the computer, the ideas. Remember who you are now. Wait. Remember who you were. Wait. Remember what's important. Make a list. Ten things, no twenty. Twenty thousand things you want to do before you die but what if tomorrow never comes? No one will remember. No one will know. No one will laugh or cry or make the bed. No one will have a clue which songs to sing to th #Quote by Rebecca Woolf

#4. The World At Large

Ice-age heat wave, can't complain.
If the world's at large, why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan.
Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand.
I move on to another day,
to a whole new town with a whole new way.
Went to the porch to have a thought.
Got to the door and again, I couldn't stop.
You don't know where and you don't know when.
But you still got your words and you got your friends.
Walk along to another day.
Work a little harder, work another way.

Well uh-uh baby I ain't got no plan.
We'll float on maybe would you understand?
Gonna float on maybe would you understand?
Well float on maybe would you understand?

The days get shorter and the nights get cold.
I like the autumn but this place is getting old.
I pack up my belongings and I head for the coast.
It might not be a lot but I feel like I'm making the most.
The days get longer and the nights smell green.
I guess it's not surprising but it's spring and I should leave.

I like songs about drifters - books about the same.
They both seem to make me feel a little less insane.
Walked on off to another spot.
I still haven't gotten anywhere that I want.
Did I want love? Did I need to know?
Why does it always feel like I'm caught in an undertow?

The moths beat themselves to death against the li #Quote by Modest Mouse

#5. Peridots and periwinkle blue medallions
Gilded galleons spilled across the ocean floor
Treasure somewhere in the sea and he will find where
Never mind the questions there's no answer for
The roll of the harbor wake
The songs that the rigging makes
The taste of the spray he takes
And he learns to give
He aches and he learns to live
He stakes all his silver
On a promise to be free
Mermaids live in colonies
All his sea dreams come to me

City satins left at home I will not need them
I believe him when he tells of loving me
Something truthful in the sea all lies will find you
Leave behind your streets he said and come to me
Come down from the neon lights
Come down from the tourist sights
Run down till the rain delights
You do not hide
Sunlight will renew your pride
Skin white by skin golden
Like a promise to be free
Dolphins playing in the sea
All his sea dreams come to me

Seabird I have seen you fly above the pilings
I am smiling at your circles in the air
I will come and sit by you while he lies sleeping
Fold your fleet wings I have brought some dreams to share
A dream that you love someone
A dream that the wars are done
A dream that you tell no one but the gray sea
They'll say that you're crazy
And a dream of a baby
Like a promise to be free
Children laughing out to sea
All his sea dr #Quote by Joni Mitchell

#6. Through Divination i received the name Matthew Edward Hall as the future prophet or savior. This is why i've left several messages to him in my songs. "Angel Baby," "Be My Baby," & "Tennessee" for example. I was correct about Paul, & Yoko. I'm sure i'll be correct about Matthew Edward Hall's great success. This is the only name i've ever received through divination. If Reincarnation is true, this may even be my next life. #Quote by John Lennon

#7. One night, he left Stephen and me in the arcade and rushed off to a – this hurt my feelings – "real" game. That night, he missed a foul shot by two feet and made the mistake of admitting to the other players that his arms were tired from throwing miniature balls at a shortened hoop all afternoon. They laughed and laughed. 'In the second overtime,' Joel told me, 'when the opposing team fouled me with four seconds left and gave me the opportunity to shoot from the line for the game, they looked mighty smug as they took their positions along the key. Oh, Pop-A-Shot guy, I could hear them thinking to their smug selves. He'll never make a foul shot. He plays baby games. Wa-wa-wa, little Pop-A-Shot baby, would you like a zwieback biscuit? But you know what? I made those shots, and those songs of bitches had to wipe their smug grins off their smug faces and go home thinking that maybe Pop-A-Shot wasn't such a baby game after all."
I think Pop-A-Shot's a baby game. That's why I love it. Unlike the game of basketball itself, Pop-A-Shot has no standard socially redeeming value whatsoever. Pop-A-Shot is not about teamwork or getting along or working together. Pop-A-Shot is not about getting exercise or fresh air. It takes place in fluorescent-lit bowling alleys or darkened bars. It costs money. At the end of a game, one does not swig Gatorade. One sips bourbon or margaritas or munches cupcakes. Unless one is playing the Super Shot version at the ESPN Zone in Times Square, in which #Quote by Sarah Vowell

#8. At some point I tried willing things along, mentally focusing on a rapid delivery. That didn't work. I got up to walk around-walking is supposed to help you progress-then quickly got back in the chair.
"Argh!!!!!" I groaned. And other stuff.
The way I saw it, my baby should have been out by now, shaking hands with his dad and passing around cigars to the nurses. But he apparently had other plans. Labor continued very slowly.
Very slowly.
We were in that room for eighteen hours. That was a lot of contractions. And a lot of PG versions of curse words, along with the X-rated kind. I may have invented a whole new language.
Somewhere around the twelve-hour mark, Chris asked if I'd mind if he changed the music, since our songs had been playing on repeat for what surely seemed like a millennium.
"Sure," I said.
He switched to the radio and found a country station. That lasted a song or two.
"I'm so sorry," I told him. "I need Enya. I'm tuned in to it, and it calms me…ohhhhh!"
"Okay. No problem," he said calmly, though not quite cheerfully. I'm sure it was torture.
Chris would take short breaks, walking out into the waiting room where both sides of our family were waiting to welcome their first grandchild and nephew. He'd look at his dad and give a little nod.
"She's okay," he told everyone. Then he'd wipe a little tear away from his eye and walk back to me.
Chris said later that watching me give birth was probably the most #Quote by Taya Kyle

#9. I played a few rough versions of songs while Chad sat by, looking lost. Mia came in wearing black leather pants and a tight sweater. As I strummed the Gibson, she made her way over to the piano. She smiled and threw her hand up, waving to Chad. He smiled back and then I watched him study her as she passed. Then his dipshit, googly eyes dropped to her ass while she moved the piano bench out.

When he looked back at me, I glared at him and began strumming a dreary and much louder tune. His body sank into his chair and he dropped his head down to stare at his fidgeting hands. Mia began playing a sullen little melody in an attempt to accompany the monotonous song I was forming, and then she stopped abruptly and turned toward me.

I continued playing.

"Is this going to be a ballad?" she asked.

Without taking my eyes off of dipshit, I said, "No, baby, this is what's called a funeral march."

Chad threw his arms up and said, "I get it. I get it. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Mia asked.

"Nothing!" Chad and I both shouted.

"Let's move on," I said, arching one eyebrow at him.

Chad kept his eyes trained on either the ground or me through the rest of the session #Quote by Renee Carlino

#10. Why are they crying? Why are they crying?" Mitya asks, flying past them at a great clip.
"The wee one, the driver answers, "it's the wee one crying." And Mitya is struck that he has said it in his own peasant way: "the wee one," and not "the baby." And he likes it that the peasant has said "wee one": there seems to be more pity in it.
"But why is it crying?" Mitya insists, as if he were foolish, "why are its little arms bare, why don't they wrap it up?"
"The wee one's cold, its clothes are frozen, they don't keep it warm."
"But why is it so? Why?" foolsih Mitya would not leave off.
"They're poor, burnt out, they've got no bread, they're begging for their burnt-down place."
"No, no," Mitya still seems not to understand, "tell me: why are these burnt-out mothers standing here, why are the people poor, why is the wee one poor, why is the steppe bare, why don't they embrace and kiss, why don't they sing joyful songs, why are they blackened with such black misery, why don't they feed the wee one?"
And he feels within himself that, though his questions have no reason or sense, he still certainly wants to ask in just that way, and he should ask in just that way. And he also feels a tenderness such as he has never known before surging up in his heart, he wants to weep, he wants to do something for them all, so that the wee one will no longer cry, so that the blackened, dried-up mother of the wee one will not cry either, so that there will be no more #Quote by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

#11. You know I'll kiss you for my supper. Yeah, you know I'll kiss you for my dinner, baby. #Quote by Jimi Hendrix

#12. As time goes by, I realize that I do trust the wind. And I often write my songs for myself. #Quote by David Friedman

#13. I was only a folk singer for about two years ... . By that time, it wasn't really folk music anymore. It was some new American phenomenon. Later, they called it singer/songwriters. Or art songs, which I liked best. Some people get nervous about that word. Art. They think it's a pretentious word from the giddyap. To me, ... the word art has never lost its vitality. #Quote by Joni Mitchell

#14. She sang that night like - I cannot say like an angel, for her songs were all of champagne suppers and strolling in the Burlington Arcade; perhaps, then, like a fallen angel - or yet again like a falling one: she sang like a falling angel might sing with the bounds of heaven fresh burst behind him, and hell still distant and unguessed. And as she did so, I sang with her - not loudly and carelessly like the rest of the crowd, but softly, almost secretly, as if she might hear me the better if I whispered rather than bawled. #Quote by Sarah Waters

#15. [From Sid Vicious's letter to Nancy Spungen's mother Deborah]
P.S. Thank you, Debbie, for understanding that I have to die. Everyone else just thinks that I'm being weak. All I can say is that they never loved anyone as passionately as I love Nancy. I always felt unworthy to be loved by someone so beautiful as her. Everything we did was beautiful. At the climax of our lovemaking, I just used to break down and cry. It was so beautiful it was almost unbearable. It makes me mad when people say you must have really loved her.' So they think that I don't still love her? At least when I die, we will be together again. I feel like a lost child, so alone.
The nights are the worst. I used to hold Nancy close to me all night so that she wouldn't have nightmares and I just can't sleep without my my beautiful baby in my arms. So warm and gentle and vulnerable. No one should expect me to live without her. She was a part of me. My heart.
Debbie, please come and see me. You are the only person who knows what I am going through. If you don't want to, could you please phone me again, and write.
I love you.

I was staggered by Sid's letter. The depth of his emotion, his sensitivity and intelligence were far greater than I could have imagined. Here he was, her accused murderer, and he was reaching out to me, professing his love for me.
His anguish was my anguish. He was feeling my loss, my pain - so much so that he was evidently contemplating suicide. He felt #Quote by Deborah Spungen

#16. I have a lifetime of love, just for you, baby. #Quote by Toni Aleo

#17. Sun worship is fairly simple. There's no mystery, no miracles, no pageantry, no one asks for money, there are no songs to learn, and we don't have a special building where we all gather once a week to pare compare clothing. #Quote by George Carlin

#18. The Dream I Dream For You, My Child
...
I hope you search for four-leaf clovers,
grin back at Cheshire moons,
breathe in the springtime breezes,
and dance with summer loons.
I hope you gaze in wide-eyed wonder
at the buzzing firefly
and rest beneath the sunlit trees
as butterflies fly by.
I hope you gather simple treasures
of pebbles, twigs, and leaves
and marvel at the fragile web
the tiny spider weaves.
I hope you read poetry and fairy tales
and sing silly, made-up songs,
and pretend to be a superhero
righting this world's wrongs.
I hope your days are filled with magic
and your nights with happy dreams,
and you grow up knowing that happiness
is found in simple things.
The dream I dream for you, my child,
as you discover, learn, and grow,
is that you find these simple joys
wherever in life you go. #Quote by L.R. Knost

#19. Rockabye Baby, in the treetop Dont you know a treetop is no safe place to rock? And who put you up there, and your cradle too? Baby, I think someone down here has got it in for you! #Quote by Shel Silverstein

#20. When I was shipwrecked recently, for instance, I had the fortune to wash aboard a barge where I enjoyed a late supper of roast leg of lamb with creamed polenta and fricassee of baby artichokes, followed by some aged Gouda served with roasted figs, and finished up with some fresh strawberries dipped in milk chocolate and crushed honeycomb, and I found this to be a wonderful antidote to being tossed like a rag doll in the turbulent waters of a particularly stormy creek. #Quote by Lemony Snicket

#21. he said that when the baby was born, if it was a boy, I was to call it Edward."
"Edward?" Teddy repeated blankly.
"After you."
And for the first time in the whole of the war Teddy broke. #Quote by Kate Atkinson

#22. Driving home that night, I felt so much better. I was no longer a freak of nature--the kind of freak that spends every waking hour with a man for months on end but has some sort of bizarre mental defect that prevents her from articulating her feelings for him--the kind of freak that allows the man to express his love time after time but gives nothing in return. I felt good about it, too, that I'd had the uncharacteristic boldness to tell him I loved him before he'd had a chance to say it to me first that night. I wanted to say I love you, not I love you, too. I knew there was a reason I liked submarine movies.
I had no idea where our relationship was headed. But I did know that I meant what I'd said.
I slept like a baby that night. #Quote by Ree Drummond

#23. I love to sing old Motown songs to myself, or some Patti Smith Edith Piaf or Billie Holiday. That gets me in the mood for singing. #Quote by Siobhan Fahey

#24. Have a fake ID." I snatched it from his hands and smiled. "Where the heck did you get this?!" His eyes shifted back to Avery. "I know people who know people." "Burt Summerstone?" I asked, reading his name off the card. He took it back from me and slid it into his pocket. "It's not about the name, baby girl. It's about the date. I am officially a twenty-one-year-old high school student. And we are officially getting drunk and crossing that item off of your bucket list. Bow down, bitches." He pulled out a fake ID for me and I grinned. Summer Burtstone. How creative. #Quote by Brittainy C. Cherry

#25. But the next generation, like this baby in the airport, will never know what life is like without a device. This raises a couple of questions: What does the future hold for this baby? And can she beat me at Candy Crush? #Quote by Lauren Graham

#26. The civil rights situation is like a pregnancy. It will get worse, I believe, before it gets better. What the usual pregnancy comes to is a decent baby. That is what we all hope will be the end product of this stress. It is customary, at the end of a pregnancy, to have for your pains a decent baby. #Quote by Gwendolyn Brooks

#27. In my mind's eye, the image of bodies dancing quickly fades into the image of a group of men standing in a circle outside a club, trading stories in perfect American English, and then to the awkward silence caused by the sudden appearance of a middle-aged woman in tattered clothes, a baby strapped to her chest, a hand stretched out for loose change. #Quote by Bobby Benedicto

#28. The fear of death haunted me for a year. I cried whenever anyone dropped a glass or broke a picture. But even then that passed, I was left with a sadness that couldn't be rubbed off. It wasn't that something had happened. It was worse: I'd become aware of what had been with me all along without my notice. I dragged this new awareness around like a stone tied to my ankle. Wherever I went, it followed. I used to make up little sad songs in my head. I eulogized the falling leaves. I imagined my death in a hundred different ways, but the funeral was always the same: from somewhere in my imagination, out rolled a red carpet. Because after every secret death I died, my greatness was always discovered. #Quote by Nicole Krauss

#29. How stupid man is to be unable to restrain feelings in suffering the human lot! That was my state at that time. So I boiled with anger, sighed, wept, and was at my wits' end. I found no calmness, no capacity for deliberation. I carried my lacerated and bloody soul when it was unwilling to be carried by me. I found no place where I could put it down. There was no rest in pleasant groves, nor in games or songs, nor in sweet-scented places, nor in exquisite feasts, nor in the pleasures of the bedroom and bed, nor, finally, in books and poetry. #Quote by Augustine Of Hippo

#30. What's that? My six song album entitled Bo Fo Sho is currently available on iTunes? With three songs that have never been heard on the internet? Uh, and if I try to pirate it for free I'll get AIDS? I would have guessed scurvy. Well, see you later ghost of Dr.Martin Luther King Jr. #Quote by Bo Burnham

#31. I was just learning to play guitar when Tracy Chapman came out. She wrote these songs, she played them by herself and I so admired her for that. #Quote by Madeleine Peyroux

#32. Bruce is still my friend. We don't talk much. We don't have to. He is great and in his own league. I'm not him and he is not me. But we are on similar paths, writing and singing out own kind of songs around the world, along with Bob and a few other singer/songwriters. It is a a silent fraternity of sorts, occupying this space in people's souls with our music. Last year, I lost my right-hand man, the pedal steel guitarist Ben Keith. This year Bruce lost his right-hand man, the saxophonist Clarence Clemons. It's time for another talk; friends can help each other just by being there. Now both of us will look to our right and see a giant hole, a memory, the past and the future. I won't play with another steel player trying to recreate Ben's parts, and I know Bruce won't play with another sax man trying to play Clarence's. Those parts are not going to happen again. They already did. That takes a lot out of our repertoires. #Quote by Neil Young

#33. Dany "Bring me that book I was reading last night." She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved reading them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.
When her handmaiden brought the book, dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but is was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. "Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride's gift, the day I we'd Khal Drogo" She played at at being a queen, yet sometimes she felt like a scared little girl. #Quote by George R R Martin

#34. I just know that I love to write songs, and I have for a long time. #Quote by Stone Gossard

#35. For a man, the baby completes the marriage. For a woman the baby completes herself. #Quote by Patrick Neate

#36. You're it for me, baby. Just you. You're not going to be your mother. You're special and unique and we're going to get you help. But I will be right by your side the entire time. I'll never leave you. I swear it. #Quote by Abbi Glines

#37. Its always important to fall back on your instincts and core beliefs and that was pretty hard for me to do but trusting in my self the way I trusted that if I were to sit at a piano for two hours and I was going learn something, that trust I'd put in myself really helped me get through it. For five to six months I just wrote songs and believed they would turn out to be things I could be proud of and be happy. #Quote by James Vincent McMorrow

#38. Where men had once howled and hacked at one another, and fought nip-and-tuck with nature as well, the machines hummed and whirred and clicked, and made parts for baby carriages and bottle caps, motorcycles and refrigerators, television sets and tricycles-the fruits of peace. #Quote by Kurt Vonnegut

#39. I come from the ocean with songs of the sea
No lesson for learning, just play upon me
Now go make your music in lands near and far
Orion protects you wherever you are #Quote by Jimmy Buffett

#40. Lots of people with little kids or babies with Down syndrome tell me they aren't afraid of the future for their child because of what I am doing to help people understand it better. #Quote by Lauren Potter