Quotes About Father

My dad, like many Southern men, is this very emotionally expressive person who isn't as articulate in words about his feelings as he is with breaking a chair or something like that.

My father was the editor of an agricultural magazine called 'The Southern Planter.' He didn't think of himself as a writer. He was a scientist, an agronomist, but I thought of him as a writer because I'd seen him working at his desk. I just assumed that I was going to do that, that I was going to be a writer.

My father, Birch Bayh, represented Indiana in the Senate from 1963 to 1981. A progressive, he nonetheless enjoyed many friendships with moderate Republicans and Southern Democrats.

My father's a Southern Baptist minister. I wasn't lighting cars on fire; I just wasn't.

My father had a lot of allergies, and he just didn't like the cold of Chicago, and his father - his parents had broken up when he was young, and his father had lived in Pasadena for a while, and he kind of fell in love with Southern California.

I am a southerner who grew up with and around guns. I own some still. My father gave me a .22 rifle when I was 9 and a single barrel .410 shotgun when I was 10.

I remember starting to read about the Soviet Union when I was eight years old; I think I was reading my father's 'New York Times.'

My earliest memories of going to Fenway with my father are a blur: many games, me too young to care, but aware that our team 'stunk.' In those years, the 1960s, the Red Sox baseball card I always coveted most was not Carl Yastrzemski's but the far more ordinary Felix Mantilla's.

Dad? Dad, no. No. I can't. I can't. Why are you saying these things?""Because I can't stand watching all that loneliness that lives inside you.

The contrast between the realization of his neglect and the fondness I had for my father was painful".

Those were some astounding lies, cub. And the very last one the most inspired of all. You have your father's talent for it.

My father couldn't warm my frozen hands.

I wanted to tell you that the man who is your father, the man who gave you life, has found a woman who is in heaven when she's in his arms.

You see, here's my theory: Kids chase the love that eludes them, and for me, that was my father's love. He kept it tucked away, like papers in a briefcase. And I kept trying to get in there.

A child playing with its father screams louder, laughs harder, jumps more eagerly, puts more faith in everything.

My father's example taught me self-reliance, to make my own luck, and to work to make things happen.

I used to annoy my father by telling him how much I felt luck was with me.

Nuevo astro que surge», decía mi padre cada vez que nombrábamos a la señora Ghiran. «Nuevo astro que surge» o sólo «nuevo astro» era siempre su ironía cada vez que nosotros nos entusiasmábamos con alguien.

The great scene of grief, in which the wild infant bore a part, had developed all her sympathies; and as her tears fell upon her father's cheek, they were the pledge that she would grow up amid human joy and sorrow, nor for ever do battle with the world, but be a woman in it. Towards her mother, too, Pearl's errand as a messenger of anguish was all fulfilled.

O Father in Heaven—if Thou art still my Father—what is this being which I have brought into the world?

This child of its father's guilt and its mother's shame hath come from the hand of God, to work in many ways upon her heart, who pleads so earnestly, and with such bitterness of spirit, the right to keep her. It was meant for a blessing; for the one blessing of her life!

I have no heavenly father.

For a young man who had chafed within the stern, moralistic, anhedonic world of his father, animation provided escape, and for someone who had always been subjugated by that father, it provided absolute control. In animation Walt Disney had a world of his own. In animation Walt Disney could be the power.

I turn to our father, searching for an ally. So Dad, is it legal for Bronte to date out of her species? Dad looks up from his various layers of pepperoni and breadless cheese. Date? he says. Apparently the idea of Bronte dating is like an electromagnet sucking away all other words in the sentence, so that's the only word he hears. You're not funny, Bronte says to me. No, I'm serious, I tell her. Isn't he like... a Sasquatch or something? Date? says Dad.