A Quote by Matt de la Pena

My chest got this weird feeling, like when you stare into the eyes of a little baby and the baby looks back up at you and you can feel how pure and innocent it is, so much that it makes your stomach feel empty - probably 'cause you realize you used to be pure like that, too, and now you're not.
Leah: "That is easily the freakin’ grossest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Yuck. If there was anything in my stomach, it would be coming back." Seth: "They are vampires, I guess. I mean, it makes sense, and if it helps Bella, it’s a good thing, right?" Leah and Jake stare at Seth. Seth: "What?" Leah: "Mom dropped him a lot when he was a baby." Jake: "On his head apparently." Leah: "He used to gnaw on the crib bars, too." Jake: "Lead paint?" Leah: "Looks like it." Seth: "Funny. Why don’t you two shut up and sleep?
It’s funny—when people call you “shy,” they usually smile. Like it’s cute, some funny little habit you’ll grow out of when you’re older, like the gaps in your grin when your baby teeth fall out. If they knew how it felt—really being shy, not just unsure at first—they wouldn’t smile. Not if they knew how the feeling knots up your stomach or makes your palms sweat or robs you of the ability to say anything that makes sense. It’s not cute at all.
I told my students the other day in class, which is about the spirituality and creativity as much as it is about music. I said, 'If you're walking down the street and you see a baby carriage, and there's a baby in the carriage; you look down and your eyes meet the eyes of the baby. The baby looks at you: That's the kind of moment you're in when you're playing.
Oh, I was sobbing, like, so bad when baby arrived. Like, I don't think people have seen a man sobbing like that. It was awful, but in the most joyful way. I mean, I was picking that baby up and putting him on me. And the baby, like, halfway opened his eyes and it just made me feel like, 'Oh my god, this is the most incredible thing.'
Every time I caught a fish, I wondered how something so small could have such clear, pure strength. It kept reminding me of another sensation, from another realm. The fish on the line, I eventually realized, felt like the baby, kicking inside you. Or the shocking, life-hungry pull of the baby on the breast. Perhaps fishing is like quickening for men, a long and patient wait for a few electric moments when they feel connected to another life.
It's like a mother, when the baby is crying, she picks up the baby and she holds the baby tenderly in her arms. Your pain, your anxiety is your baby. You have to take care of it. You have to go back to yourself, to recognize the suffering in you, embrace the suffering, and you get a relief.
When I do things that don't feel pure or make any moves that I don't feel like represent me or who I am, it makes me feel like I wanna throw up. So I just do me, and I guess people just take that how they do.
Grief ... gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn't seem worth starting anything. I can't settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness.
If you feel like you've got a concussion, if you don't know, if you take the test whatever, if you feel like you've got a concussion, the biggest thing is rest, man. Cause you usually compound your injury so much if you go back out there, and we all know that now.
Everyone talks about how hard it is to have a kid, and that scares you into waiting. It obviously is tough [to be a parent], but when you feel that love, and it's instant, and it's so cool, so fun. When your baby smiles at you or when you just hold your baby, it's a pretty awesome feeling.
I feel the monster of grief again, writhing in the empty space where my heart and stomach used to be. I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws around my throat, squeezing my airway. I twist and put my head between my knees, breathing until the strangled feeling leaves me.
I always wanted to be married for a little while before a baby. You know what? It does make me choose my wardrobe differently because if I wear something a little baggy, I'm like, "No, it looks like I'm having a baby!"
I get this a lot: 'Oh, can you take a picture with my baby? Can you hold the baby?' I don't want to hold your baby! I'll hold my baby. I don't like holding someone else's baby. I'm serious! You never know what could happen. It's such an awkward position you're put in, and it's like, 'No, sorry.'
I went through puberty really early, when I was 11. It makes you feel weird - you know, like your uncle is now hugging you a little bit longer than he used to. I think we all go through wanting to go back - you're not sure you're ready for that body.
When you have the baby, there is no BlackBerry, no computer; you just have the baby on your stomach, and your heart is beating the same time as the baby's. It's very nice.
I hear the Sophie Giraffe is great for teething. Another thing I really love right now is the Moby Baby Carrier. To me, it seems like a natural way to hold the baby close to you. I also love the burp cloths, bibs, and swaddle blankets from Aden and Anais. Their stuff is organic and pure.
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