Quotes About Father

He thought he would become accustomed to the idea, not yet understanding that it is useless to become accustomed to the loss of a father, for it will never happen a second time: might as well leave the wound open.

The larger magnates and their wives had decided ideas. For them the Hitler invention meant no more strikes or labor-union agitation, no more Reds fighting in the streets; it meant wages fixed and permanent, resulting in such prosperity as heavy industry had never before known. In short, the Third Reich was the magnate's dream, and Lanny was struck by the curious resemblance of their conversation to that of his father.

Yet there have been known to be philosophers and plain men who swore by Malthus in the books, and would, nevertheless, subscribe to a relief fund in time of a famine. It was the same with Jurgis, who consigned the unfit to destruction, while going about all day sick at heart because of his poor old father, who was wandering somewhere in the yards begging for a chance to earn his bread.

If the child's image of a dead father created only or mostly in fantasy is idealized—dead soldiers are usually idealized as heroes—the mourning over losing them (their fantasized images) becomes more difficult. There is psychological resistance to giving up a hero constructed in one's mind and making him an average dead man.

He was not his father, and this was not his work; but he was the master, and this was his masterpiece.

Whom man kill, God restores to life; whom the brothers pursue the Father redeems. Pray and believe and go onward into life. You Father is there.

He was one of those children most deserving of pity, among all, one of those who have father and mother, and who are orphans nevertheless.

Me, I'm much more than the master, I am the father.

An inward growth seemed to be in progress within him. He was conscious of a sort of natural enlargement, which gave him two things that were new to him — his father and his country.

The father who went off to war was not the one who came home.

Love had turned into loss and she'd pushed it away, but somehow, impossibly, a bit of that love had remained. A girl's love for her father. Immutable. Unbearable but unbreakable.

The father who went off to war was not the one who came home. She had tried to be loved by him; more important, she had tried to keep loving him, but in the end, one was as impossible as the other.

She cried at last, for all the times she'd had been with her father and all the times she hadn't, and for all the times she never would be. When the tears had worn themselves out and left her dry, she got unsteadily to her feet.

She knew sorrow would hit her later, hit her hard, the sudden, aching realization that her father was Gone, that she'd never pick up the phone and hear his voice again, or go to her mailbox and get a letter written in his bold, sweeping hand.

Now it would never happen; she would never get to know her father, never feel the warmth of his hand in hers, never fall asleep on the divan beside him, never be able to say all that needed to be said between them. Those words were lost, turned into ghosts that would drift away, unsaid. They would never be the family maman had promised. "Papa," she said; it was such a big word suddenly, a dream in its entirety.

The father who went off to war was not the one who came home. She had tried to be loved by him; more important, she had tried to keep loving him, but in the end, one was as impossible as the other. In

Loreda knew she couldn't blame her mother for Daddy abandoning them, or not entirely. That was the sad, sorry truth she'd come to after a long and sleepless night. Daddy had left them all.

With no local police and no one to call for help. All this time, Dad had taught Leni how dangerous the outside world was. The truth was that the biggest danger of all was in her own home.

I love you, Papa," she said quietly, realizing how true it was, how true it had always been. Love had turned into loss and she'd pushed it away, but somehow, impossibly, a bit of that love had remained. A girl's love for her father. Immutable. Unbearable but unbreakable.

I love you, Papa," she said quietly, realizing how true it was, how true it had always been. Love had turned into loss and she'd pushed it away, but somehow, impossibly, a bit of that love had remained. A girl's love for her father. Immutable. Unbearable but unbreakable.

Or you, Papa," she said. "Or you.

you can bet who your dad will like best.

saving them money and helping them out. "Dad?" she said. "Could you stay

Dad seemed older, his skin more lined and creased. He smiled in that way of his, the way he did everything in life, full tilt, no explanations, no regrets, no safety nets. You knew Tom Walker in a glance, because he let you in. You knew instantly that this was a man