I love so much you see, you're even in my dreams
I can hear baby, I can hear you calling me
I'm so in love with you, all I ever want to do is
Thank you baby, thank you baby.
Say stop, whenever you want to stop. Understand?" I nodded. "Do you want to stop now?" My head moved back and forth to the pillow. "Thank God.
I want to thank my fans for their support and love all these years, thank you Miami. Thank you Latin America. Thank you Mexico. Thank you world !
I found once you start writing about God it's really fun. It's like a rock singer saying "baby." "Baby, baby, baaayy-by." You start saying "God" on the page and you don't want to stop.
You either have a baby, want a baby, or don't want a baby, but you don't nothing a baby if you're in your 30s or 40s.
I want to thank you my sweet darling for digging in the mud and picking me up.
Heaven is laying in my sweet baby's arms, hell is when my baby's not here.
I don't know if you can hear me, but I have heard you. I heard your willingness to change. Your force, your hope... and I want to tell you how grateful I am. Thank you, thank you, thank you, people of France.
He was so good with the kids on the set. He just knew exactly how to handle them. The baby would cry and Vin would hold him and do all these weird sounds and the baby would stop crying. It was really cute.
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.
I loved my baby dolls when I was a kid. I used to pray with them and say good night to each and every one of them because I didn't want their feelings to get hurt. I remember having that connection with my baby dolls.
One of the sweet things about pain and sorrow is that they show us how well we are loved, how much kindness there is in the world, and how easily we can make others happy in the same way when they need help and sympathy.
How sweet a thing it is to love and to be loved again.
I loved every second of Catholic church. I loved the sickly sweet rotting-pomegranate smells of the incense. I loved the overwrought altar, the birdbath of holy water, the votive candles; I loved that there was a poor box, the stations of the cross rendered in stained glass on the windows.
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
"I can't believe you recently had a baby. How do you do it?" The baby starts to come down...and once that happens you can't-it comes out. Whether you let it or not, the baby comes out. So that's how I did it.