A Quote by Jewel
I have a two-year-old boy. Being his mom feels like I have a present I get to spend the rest of my life opening.
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When you see a 14-year-old boy who has never known what peace looks like for a day in his life, there's part of you as a human being that feels some degree, you can say, compassion for the fact that these boys have known war, famine, violence and death from the day they were born.
You can talk about things indirectly, but if you want to talk how people really talk, you have to talk R-rated. I mean I've got three incredibly intelligent daughters, but when you get mad, you get mad and you talk like people talk. When a normal 17-year-old girl storms out of the house or 15-year-old boy is mad at his mom or dad, they're not talking the way people talk on TV. Unless it's cable.
The problem is that your daughter has given her heart to a 15-year-old boy, and a 15-year-old boy does not yet qualify as a human being.
We had a band called the Grainers. In our 12-year-old minds, this was like a double entendre for like being annoying and being a delicious donut. I got kicked out of the band for playing bass incorrectly. Like, I was playing it like a guitar. I was just so like twee and British, even as like the little 12-year-old boy.
We've been married for 10 years. We have a five-year-old boy and an 11-month-old boy and life is good. It's a constant juggle but it is so incredibly fulfilling when you get a chance to look into each other's eyes at the end of the day and say, "We made it through another one."
My 4-year-old son prays every night for his best friend who is the same age - our next door neighbor in Liberia, a little Liberian boy: 'Dear God, please don't let him get Ebola.' I'm proud of him for thinking about his friend and praying for him but that's not a prayer that a 4-year-old should have to consider.
April is the two-week-old kitten, the month-old lamb, the six-month-old heifer, the two-year-old girl. Too young to know it has either past or future, it wears the ribbon of the fleeting present as part of itself.
In my experience (I am the lone father of an eight-year-old boy who lost his mother when he was one year old), parenting is the most difficult of all jobs: forget your chief executives, editors, prime ministers and the like - parenting is far more challenging.
I think if you went back to the eighteenth century and you asked a fifteen year old boy, 'Would you like to marry a woman who has had plastic bags needlessly inserted into her breasts?', that fifteen year old boy would probably be like, 'what's plastic?'.
It was less in pity than in anger that the world was moved by the photograph of little Alan Kurdi, that dead three-year-old Syrian refugee boy whose name we're all remembering now on the first anniversary of his drowning, along with his five-year-old brother Galip and their mother Rehanna.
England is my home. London is my home. New York feels like, if I have to spend a year living in an unfamiliar city, this is a pretty lovely one to spend a year in, but I will be going home at the end of it, certainly.
I've had good sex with somebody and just kind of been afterward - "Wow." Once they started opening their mouth and showing their true colors and talking to them and getting to know them more and being like, "OK this is not the person I want to spend the rest of my life with." But we had fun, and that's that.
There are at least two distinct meanings of 'hot': there is the, like, normal human definition which is that 'this individual seems suitable for mating'. And then there's the weird, culturally constructed definition of 'hot' which means, 'that individual is malnourished and has probably had plastic bags inserted into her breasts'. Like, I think if you went back to the 18th century and asked a 15-year-old boy, 'Would you like to marry a woman who has had plastic bags needlessly inserted into her breasts?' that 15-year-old boy would probably be like ... 'What's plastic?'
'The Marriage of Souls', like 'The Rationalist', is an exploration of humanist philosophy wrapped between the delicate leaves of an eighteenth-century tale. The story of the two novels - and they should be read as a two-volume work - centres around the old war-horse of boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl. But what a boy and what a girl.
I don't know what being a 48-year-old feels like. There are a lot of 48 year olds that aren't in good shape. The pharmacy is making a killing off of them.
My mom missed meals on several occasions because there was only enough food to feed all of us. My mom didn't have a bed until I was 15 years old. She slept on a couch... I remember laying with her, like I used to sleep with my mom until I was like 12. I was a big baby; I'm a momma's boy. But my mom is my best friend, and never let me down, ever.
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