A Quote by Sherrilyn Kenyon

There, there, baby. We'll hide her body in the trunk later. (Tory) — © Sherrilyn Kenyon
There, there, baby. We'll hide her body in the trunk later. (Tory)
But truly, women are amazing. Think about it this way: a woman can grow a baby inside her body. Then a woman can deliver the baby through her body. Then, by some miracle, a woman can feed a baby with her body. When you compare that to the male’s contribution to life, it’s kind of embarrassing, really.
When I began to study baby delivery, when I was about to have a baby, I became very into it and fascinated and what our body does and how a mother's body temperature will rise the minute that the baby touches her chest because she needs to get warmer.
I think of the chimp, the one with the talking hands. In the course of the experiment, that chimp had a baby. Imagine how her trainers must have thrilled when the mother, without prompting, began to sign her newborn. Baby, drink milk. Baby, play ball. And when the baby died, the mother stood over the body, her wrinkled hands moving with animal grace, forming again and again the words: Baby, come hug, Baby come hug, fluent now in the language of grief.
How do you know all this? Jeez, Tory, you’re a kid. Act like it. (Geary) (Tory reached out and punched her on the arm.) Ow! What was that for? (Geary) Unexpected and irrational emotional outbursts. Isn’t that what teenagers are supposed to do? Oh, and sulk. A lot. (Tory)
Abortion is not health care. A woman has a right to her body, but that is not her body. What about the baby?
Fine,' Aria conceded. 'But *I'll* carry her.' She grabbed the baby seeat from the back. A smell of baby powder wafted up to greet her, bringing a lump in her throat. Her father Byron, and his girlfriend, Meredith, had just had a baby, and she loved Lola with all her heart. If she looked too long at this baby, she might love her just as much.
A woman relinquishes her unfettered right to control her own body when her actions cause the conception of a baby
I can see clothes of silk, if materials that do not hide the body, nor even one's decency, can be called clothes. ... Wretched flocks of maids labor so that the adulteress may be visible through her thin dress, so that her husband has no more acquaintance than any outsider or foreigner with his wife's body.
My girlfriend asked me if I only love her for her body. I said no, baby. Just parts of it.
As her analyst had told her: the deeper buried the distress, the further into the body it went. The digestive system was about as far as it could go to hide.
I have an aluminium trunk that I came to Delhi with. God has given me a lot in the last 27 years, but that trunk remains with me. I can return to Motihari with that trunk but I have my family to support.
It is not her body that he wants but it is only through her body that he can take possession of another human being, so he must labor upon her body, he must enter her body, to make his claim.
For the record? I have never been her baby. In fact, I reject the notion of coming out of her body. I prefer to believe I was hatched, or perhaps purchased.
Stop the pain.” – Tory “You know I can’t.” – Acheron “Fine. But next time you’re the one who’s doing labor duty. I get to sit there and hold your hand.” – Tory (And again he laughed. She glared at him.) “You have no sense of self preservation, do you?” – Tory
The baby, a girl, is born at 6:24 a.m. She weighs six pounds, ten ounces. The mother takes the baby in her arms and asks her, "Who are you, my little one?" And in response, this baby, who is Liz and not Liz at the same time, laughs.
Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide: If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all.
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