Quotes About Father

She had told me often enough to keep my mouth shut, and now I did exactly that. I abolished all language on the day of my father's funeral.

By the time spring had fully bloomed, he would be flying. He would never be far from the girl who had been born on a snowy day, whose father had come home from the sea so that he could tell her every story he knew, whose sister took her in her arms to read to her, whose mother would teach her all she needed to know.

She had been grief stricken as her father lay dying but now she felt weightless, the way people do when they're no longer sure they have a reason to be connected to this world.

How can he do this to you?" Shelby says of her father. "I don't care, I have you," Sue says. Shelby says nothing. The fact that she's the high point of someone's life is pathetic. She's probably never loved her mother more than she does at this moment. Maybe she didn't even know what love was before today.

Although my father had never been there, I came to believe I would someday see that city for him.

She had come to believe that if her father had wanted a docile daughter, he should never have allowed her access to the ocean.

From the time I could read, I found solace in my father's library...At the ages of ten and eleven and twelve I would have preferred to remain in the library...

The priests were deferential, siding with Rome, and those who opposed them were said to be robbers and thugs, my father and his friends among

The sea was a dangerous enemy, and we were surrounded by it. But I remembered what my father had told me. You could grow to love something so strong and elemental, but you'd have to value the beauty of it more than you did your own life.

was a spectacular and lonely landscape that I wished my father could see. I wished he could take off his shoes and climb over the rocks and wave to me and that he would be here in this world once again, if only for a few hours.

toward the quilted hamper, unzipped it, and then paused, a single wax-paper-wrapped sandwich in her hand. "Our food will be full of sand," she said, "with this wind." And her husband said, "Well, they are sandwiches," and winked at Michael, who seemed suddenly to recognize his father again.

He put his hand out to his daughter, pulled her up easily over the edge. And then bent to gather the shoes and toys, swinging the canvas straps of the two toy machine guns over his shoulder (surprised to find that some mistaken memory had caused him—momentarily—to be surprised to find they had no weight). Jacob

What is wrong with you?" their father was saying. "Why can't you behave?" Michael—it was not fear on his face, only a kind of disbelief, as if this tall, red-faced, shouting man had materialized out of the wind—looked up to say, "Just playing. I was just playing." But

Had he made the entire world his victim, he still would not have been able to banish his introjected father from his bedroom, for once own unconscious cannot be destroyed by destroying the world.

The tiny share we have of time appalls me, though my father seems to regard it with tranquillity.

Corrie said she was glad that what they were doing—what they had just done—appeared not to bother him, in spite of his belief. She said that she herself had never had any time for God, because her father was enough to cope with.

Hey, Ocean Eyes," my father said. "Where'd you go on us?

There was one thing my murderer didn't understand; he didn't understand how much a father could love his child.

Last night it had been my father who had finally said it: She's never coming home. A clear and easy piece of truth that everyone who had ever known me had accepted. But he needed to say it, and she needed to hear him say it.

A father's suspicion...' she began. Is as powerful as a mother's intuition.' ~pg 87, Ruana Singh and Jack Salmon

There was our father, the heart we knew held all of us. Held us heavily and desperately, the doors of his heart opening and closing with the rapidity of stops on an instrument, the quiet felt closures, the ghostly fingering, practice and practice and then, incredibly, sound and melody and warmth.

Well, as my dad would say, it means she's out of this shithole.

Please don't let Daddy die Susie, he whispered. I need him.

Stones and bones; snow and frost; seeds and beans and polliwogs. Paths and twigs, assorted kisses, We all know who Daddy misses! His two little frogs of girls, that's who. They know where they are, do you, do you?