Quotes About Father

It is when you become immersed in the love of the Father that you truly begin to love like Jesus. He wants to immerse you. He wants to hold you. He wants to take you to a place where you are so far over your head in the river of God that miracles happen all around you. He wants to fill you entirely with His Holy Spirit.

Der Vater. Der Vater ist viereckig und raucht Ernte 23. Am Sonntag im Bett zieht er den Kindern gern schnurgerade Scheitel. Die Mutter. Die Mutter ist eine Milch eine schoen warme. Aber in der man ertrinkt.

J'aimerais que mon père ait été un requin Qui eût déchiré quarante baleiniers (Et dans leur sang j'aurais appris à nager)

I felt ashamed, really ashamed of all the years I'd spent trying to identify the father who happened to be mine, instead of simply claiming the best on offer.

Dad was alive. I believed Conor, but I still didn't really know it. But now I do.

What happens to the mind after bereavement makes no sense until later... what the mind does after losing one's father isn't just to pick new fathers from the world, but pick new selves to love them with.

What happens to the mind after bereavement makes no sense until later. Even as I watched I'd half-realised Prideaux was a figure I'd picked out for a father. But what I should have realised, too, on those northern roads, is that what the mind does after losing one's father isn't just to pick new fathers from the world, but pick new selves to love them with.

Sometimes, a few times, I felt my father must be sitting near me as I sat on a train or in a café. This was comforting. It all was. Because these were the normal madnesses of grief.

On the way home I felt a great and simple sadness. I missed my dad. I missed him very much.

Clouds of linnets bounce, half-midges, half musical notation, along the hedges surrounding my old home, and all is out of sorts as far as that notion of home lies because my father isn't here.

Time didn't run forwards any more. It was a solid thing you could press yourself against and feel it push back; a thick fluid, half-air, half-glass, that flowed both ways and sent ripples of recollection forwards and new events backwards so that new things I encountered, then, seemed souvenirs from the distant past. Sometimes, a few times, I felt my father must be sitting near me as I sat on a train or in a café. This was comforting. It all was. Because

My father's life wasn't about disappearance. His was a life that worked against it. He'd come home from work

When I was writing the speech, still a little concussed, I reached for the phone to call my father and ask what type of plane it was, and for a moment the world went very black.

The notebooks are full of a fierce attention to things I do not know. But now I know what they are for. These are records of ordered transcendence. A watcher's diary. My father's talk of patience had held within it all the magic that is waiting and looking up at the moving sky.

History may have condemned him many times over for being a weak and reactionary tsar, but he was, without doubt, the most exemplary of royal fathers.

After two weeks of paternity leave post-birth, (my husband) goes back to work before tying up loose ends to take ten weeks off to care for his baby. He has a big shiny job at one of the country's most profitable companies, but a dad taking time out, fully paid, to look after his child is recognised as something that's important and so is encouraged.

ante el altar a un solo Dios, a un solo Padre, a un solo Creador y a un solo Pensamiento, nos alzamos juntos como el único Hijo de Dios.

5 Y cuando miramos en nuestro interior, vemos brillar la pureza del Cielo en nuestro reflejo del Amor de nuestro Padre.

former KGB officer with a confident walk and shy smile, a tough administrator of disarming simplicity, a market-oriented reformer willing to increase state control over the market, and a touching father who can fly a jet and uses military slang in his speech. (Fartyshev

But God's Word, the Word that says he is our Father, the Word that has been calling out to us men from the first day of creation: "You are mine!" - this Word endures through all the eclipses of history, it sounds above the hoofbeats of the apocalyptic horsemen, and it will still be the saving Word on God's great last day of reckoning when the Judge will come to us and, suddenly, he will turn out to be our Father.

My dad was the town drunk. Most of the time that's not so bad but New York City?

Now, the most remarkable feature of Christ's teaching as exhibited in the Gospels is that He professed to bring a new revelation of the nature of God. This revelation He summed up in the word "Father," not using that word in the conventional sense of "creator," in which it is common to all religions, but in a sense from which could be inferred all manner of loving-kindness.

The greatest thing," says some one, "a man can do for his Heavenly Father is to be kind to some of His other children." I wonder how it is that we are not all kinder than we are. How much the world needs it! How easily it is done! How instantaneously it acts! How infallibly it is remembered! How superabundantly it pays itself back, -- for there is no debtor in the world so honorable, so superbly honorable, as Love.

Fear is the father of courage and the mother of safety.