Baby Dress Quotes & Sayings

How could I explain to a beautiful lady in a silk dress that when I picked up her baby girl, I felt that lady's long-ago chubby shape in my arms, smelled her sunshine-touched hair? That years and years of tiny memories flitted past my heart like a flock of birds spinning on invisible air? It was the smell of the little girls, slightly wet, somewhat soapy, the smell of porridge supper, and the taste of kissed-away tears. Here in my arms were the best parts of life, going on, blooming like a strong tree. — Nancy E. Turner

I went from people just thinking I was, like, a baby to people thinking I'm this, like, sex freak that really just pops molly and does lines all day. It's like, 'Has anyone ever heard of rock 'n' roll?' There's a sex scene in pretty much every single movie, and they go, 'Well, that's a character.' Well, that's a character. I don't really dress as a teddy bear and, like, twerk on Robin Thicke, you know? — Miley Cyrus

The devil is a woman in a purple dress that's riding up her thighs and revealing smooth flawless skin like maybe she is an angel. A group of men are carrying her, struggling to get her to the top. I have never seen the woman before, or any of the men, but I think she is just so pretty even Sbho doesn't compare. She has long shiny hair that isn't really hers but it still looks good, nice skin, white teeth, and it seems like she eats very well. Her breasts are the only thing that is wrong with her body - nobody needs breasts that are each the size of ugly baby;s head. — NoViolet Bulawayo

Only in Paris do couture workers, from seamstress to mannequin, worship a dress and treat it like a baby. — Pierre Balmain

You like the way I dress The way I wear my hair Show me off to all your friends Baby, I don't care Just as long as you tell them who I am Tell them I'm the one that made you give a damn — Jennifer Lopez

I refused to worry about something I could not change, and I still refuse. Look, I'm like any other woman. All this evolved b.s. that I'm telling you is my mantra. It's not something I practice naturally. I had to surrender to not worrying about the way I looked, how much I weighed, because that's just part of the journey of having a baby. I am not a woman whose self-worth comes from her dress size. — Kristen Bell

The sweetest thing I've ever known was like the kiss on the collarbone, the soft caress of happiness, the way you walk, your style of dress, I wish I didn't get so weak, oh baby just to hear you speak, makes me argue just to see how much your in love with me — Lauryn Hill

Kate points her finger at me, like a teacher reprimanding a student. "Tell the truth, Drew." "What am I? Ten years old?" "Emotionally? Sometimes. But that's beside the point. Did you peek at my dress?" I reach around her waist and press our lower halves together. "No, baby, I didn't look at your dress. — Emma Chase

No, baby, I like the dress.
I was just going to like it much, much more in a pile on my bedroom floor. — A.L. Jackson

Maddy showed up around eleven to drop off Scarlet and take me dress shopping. She used her mom skills to get me off the couch.
"Hey, pumpkin, I'll get you a strawberry shake if you get up now," she whispered, stroking my head. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby? A big strawberry shake from Burger King. Does that sound good?"
"Can I have whipped cream too?" I asked with my eyes still closed.
"Sure, sweetie."
Tempted by a promised reward, I shuffled after her. — Bijou Hunter

A nurse interrupted the conversation by appearing in the doorway to tell a beaming Matt Holden and Leta that they'd just become grandparents. It was a fine, healthy boy, and as soon as they had Mrs. Winthrop in a room, everyone could come and see him in the nursery. She darted a worried glance toward a group of taciturn men in sunglasses and dark suits, facing another group in casual dress but looking at windows as if they might be contemplating a break-out. And one of those men bore a striking resemblance to a mobster ...
She beat a hasty retreat back into the safety of the surgical ward. That baby was going to have some very odd visitors. — Diana Palmer

I should have left yesterday before I found out how hot you run. But I didn't. And now I'm fucked." One hand dropped from the wall to grip the side of her hip, squeezing and releasing. "That exquisite body of yours needs a lot of care and attention. I didn't even get a chance to use my tongue on you. I hate not knowing how you taste."

Her head dropped back against the door. When his hand slipped under her dress to run up the outside of her thigh, a moan escaped her lips. Unconsciously, she thrust her breasts upward, in the direction of his mouth.

"Yes, I see them, baby. I'd taste you there, too." Slowly, his hand slid around toward the juncture between her thighs. "You came so quickly for me yesterday, like something out of a fantasy. Were you neglected here?" He ran a knuckle along the seam of her panties. "I know how to make it better. — Tessa Bailey

Sandwiches, and drink mint juleps with the best of them." "If you want to dress in drag and do the job for me, you are more than welcome to," I'd replied in a sweet, syrupy tone. "You're just jealous that I would rock a garden dress way better than you ever could," he'd countered. "I'm frightened that you even know what a garden dress is." "Oh, baby," Finn had crooned. "I know all about the finer things in life - and the ladies who enjoy them. I happen to be one of those finer things, you know." "I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. — Jennifer Estep

'Venus in Fur' is very Polanski: you have the knife of 'Rosemary's Baby'; you have Thomas disguised as a woman as in 'The Tenant,' when Vanda puts makeup on him, it's like 'Cul de Sac'; the dress of Tess and other details that are very Polanski. He fell in love with the play because it was so much him. — Emmanuelle Seigner

I decided to become an actor at five. I saw the most gorgeous woman that I had ever seen in my five years of living on television. She had on a long, red dress and her eyelashes looked like butterflies and I said, "Grandmamma, who is that?" She said, "Baby, that's Lola Falana." I said, "That's it right there. I want to be black, fabulous, and on TV." — Niecy Nash

Lord Macon deposited his wife into a chair and then knelt next to her, clutching one of her hands. "Tell me truthfully - how are you feeling?"
Alexia took a breath. "Truthfully? I sometimes wonder if I, like Madame Lefoux, should affect masculine dress."
"Gracious me, why?"
"You mean aside from the issue of greater mobility?"
"My love, I don't think that's currently the result of your clothing."
"Indeed, I mean after the baby."
"I still don't see why should want to."
"Oh no? I dare you to spend a week in a corset, long skirts and a bustle."
"How do you know I haven't? — Gail Carriger

I mean, seriously, is a baby doll dress for the breastless? I don't know. — Lili St. Crow

We have more patience for girls who act like boys than boys who act like girls. A tomboy is considered cute. One day she'll shuck her muddy jeans and put on a dress, and everyone will gasp at her beauty. They'll all laugh about her tree-climbing, frog-catching days.
But there's no such tolerance for the boy who puts on a dress, who wants a toy kitchen or a baby doll to love. Jung would say that this is because, even culturally, our anima is repressed, hated, derided. We hate our female selves. A boyish girl is perfectly acceptable. A girlish boy? Not so much. In certain places, you'd get your ass kicked, find yourself "gay-bashed." You might even get yourself killed. That's how much we hate our anima. — Lisa Unger

She's a woman. Like a chameleon does, a woman quietly blends into all the parts of her life. Sometimes you can hardly tell she's there, she's so quiet going on about her business. Feed the baby. Muck the stables. Make soup from stones. Make a sheet into a dress. She doesn't count on destiny for anything. She knows its her own hands, her own arms, her own thighs and breasts that have to do the work. Destiny is bigger in men's lives. Destiny is a welcome guest in a man's house. She barely knocks and he's there to open the door. "Yes, yes. You do it," he says to destiny and lumbers back to his chair. — Marlena De Blasi

Clothes as text, clothes as narration, clothes as a story. Clothes as the story of our lives. And if you were to gather all the clothes you have ever owned in all your life, each baby shoe and winter coat and wedding dress, you would have your autobiography. — Linda Grant

Look at you, standing there in your iron- gray dress, feeling pious
and self- righteous while you starve small children! — V.C. Andrews

Her mother had come a week after the baby died, the only time Annie had seen her since she'd left Kansas. Her hair gone white, her dress starched stiff, her small hands as dry as paper. Annie had wanted her mother to make it better. What she got was "God decides what's right for us" and a butter cake she'd packed from home, made by someone in the congregation. Maybe something truthful, some real emotion from her mother, might have been a small bridge Annie could have crossed. But hers had been a family of hidden feelings, held tongues. "Life is so hard out here," her mother had said, unable to wipe the sigh from her voice, the disapproval, as if the Panhandle - Annie's choice - was somehow to blame for the baby's death. Annie had been too grief-tired to get angry, but she had had the thought, when she looked at her mother's stolid face, that she would probably never see her — Rae Meadows

Okay, well, we have to come up with an excuse. You needing to work and me needing a makeup change isn't going to cut it. We're seriously late.
Baby, we don't need an excuse. Anyone who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we're late. — Kristen Ashley

When Mrs. Keane whispered, between contractions, that the baby was coming at least six weeks too soon, he shook his head and clucked his tongue, lifting the wet dish towel from her forehead and refolding it and then touching it gently to her cheeks. The dampness, and the perspiration, had darkened her hair and the pain had brought some color to her face. There was all about her a not unpleasant odor of oatmeal or wheat. He knelt beside the couch. When he leaned away, his T-shirt was wet with the amniotic fluid that had soaked her dress and the cushion beneath her. Her knees were already raised, her pale legs bare, and he asked, gently, if she would like him to check what was going on. She nodded and when the contraction had passed, added, "Modesty is always the first thing to go. — Alice McDermott

I am so ready to be a mommy. I can't wait. I notice every little baby dress, every little baby toy, every little baby thing. — Halle Berry

I couldn't wait until after my third baby to get my body back and start being able to dress a little bit sexier again. — Kourtney Kardashian

If grownups want to dress in Tudor costume, douse babies in water, intone over the dead and do strange things with wine and wafers, it is a free country. But for a Christian sect to claim ownership of the legal definition of a human relationship is way out of order. — Simon Jenkins

My signature look is an eighties baby doll dress, combat boots with colorful socks sticking out, and then mounds of jewelry. I love silver and turquoise. I go to Montana every winter, so I hunt around for cool pieces there. — Zoey Deutch

When I was a child, I probably should have been medicated about my obsession with The Spice Girls. I had the Buffalo shoes, a customised Baby Spice necklace - when I say custom-made, it was made out of plastic from the local mall - and a Union Jack dress. — Blake Lively

Baby," his voice gentled, "this is me seein' to that soft spot when I say quiet-like that I ... will ... be ... there ... in ten. And what I mean is, when I get there in ten, your ass better be there."
Oh boy.
"Are you coming on your bike?"
"Yeah."
"I'm in a tight, short, little aquamarine dress with high heels. I can't get on a bike.
"You're in a tight, short dress and high heels?" Tack asked.
"Yes."
"I'll be in there in five. — Kristen Ashley

Just do me a favor first - go find the baby. Find out who has her. If I go out there now everybody's going to want to start talking and it'll be midnight before I find her. Take a quick walk around, would you do that? Make sure some drunk didn't leave her in a chair." "How will I know it's your baby?" Cousins asked. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen a baby at the party, and surely with all these Micks there were bound to be plenty of them. "She's the new one," Fix said, his voice gone suddenly sharp, like Cousins was an idiot, like this was the reason some guys had to be lawyers rather than cops. "She's the one in the fancy dress. It's her party. — Ann Patchett

Mom! Look. This one is my favorite," Devin said, pulling out a faded pink dress with a red plaid sash. The crinoline petticoat underneath was so old and stiff it made snapping sounds, like beads or fire embers. She dropped the dress over her head, over her clothes. It brushed the floor. "When I'm old enough for it to fit me, I'm going to wear it with purple shoes," she said.
"A bold choice," Kate said as Devin dove back into the trunk. The attic in Kate's mother's house had always fascinated Devin with its promise of hidden treasures. When Kate's mother had been alive, she had let Devin eat Baby Ruth candy bars and drink grape soda and play in this old trunk full of dresses that generations of Morris women had worn to try entice rich men to marry them. Most of the clothes had belonged to Kate's grandmother Marilee, a renowned beauty who, like all the rest, had fallen in love with a poor man instead. — Sarah Addison Allen

What color are your panties?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"Why?"
"Baby, if I'm going to take you into a room full of men wearing that dress, I'm damn well going to be the only one who knows the color of your panties. — Tessa Bailey

I suppose this is what I meant when I wrote what I did, sweet pea, about how it is we cannot possibly know what will manifest in our lives. We live and have experiences and leave people we love and get left by them. People we thought would be with us forever aren't and people we didn't know would come into our lives do. Our work here is to keep faith with that, to put it in a box and wait. To trust that someday we will know what it means, so that when the ordinary miraculous is revealed to us we will be there, standing before the baby girl in the pretty dress, grateful for the smallest things. — Cheryl Strayed

Fuck, you're the hardest bitch I've ever met to give shit to," he grumbled. My emotions careening all over the place, I pulled back and narrowed my eyes on him. "Oh, so, you were also generous with your smorgasbord of pussy?" He grinned. "Baby, don't ask me that, but I will say I never gave any of them a spa." "Good," I snapped. "Or a phone that cost a G," he went on. "Excellent," I snapped again. "Maybe a dress or shoes, but not both and definitely not three," he muttered then finished musingly, "Or even two." "It might be a good idea to shut up now, Knight," I suggested. He grinned again. — Kristen Ashley

Who said I can't wear my Converse With my dress, well baby That's just me! — Demi Lovato

To be initiated into Belief is neither done through abstaining from certain types of tangible substances (e.g., Alcohol) nor through abiding with certain dress codes (e.g., Head Cover), it is something only the baby completely -yet intrinsically- understands. A Truth that repelled Pharaoh into the dustbin of history and his Jew subjects into the fringes of mankind. — Ibrahim Ibrahim

A doll is among the most pressing needs as well as the most charming instincts of feminine childhood. To care for it, adorn it, dress and undress it, give it lessons, scold it a little, put it to bed and sing it to sleep, pretend that the object is a living person - all the future of the woman resides in this. Dreaming and murmuring, tending, cossetting, sewing small garments, the child grows into girlhood, from girlhood into womanhood, from womanhood into wifehood, and the first baby is the successor of the last doll. A little girl without a doll is nearly as deprived and quite as unnatural as a woman without a child. — Victor Hugo

The door of the jail being flung open, the young woman stood fully revealed before the crowd. It seemed to be her first impulse to clasp the infant closely to her bosom that she might conceal a certain token which was wrought or fastened to her dress. In a moment, however, wisely judging that one token of her shame would but poorly serve to hide another, she took the baby on her arm, and, with a burning blush and yet a haughty smile, looked around at her townspeople and neighbors. On the breast of her gown, in fine red cloth, surrounded with an elaborate embroidery and fantastic flourishes of gold thread, appeared the letter A. — Nathaniel Hawthorne