Quotes About Father

It's a bit traumatic," she noted, "to see your father, who took long walks with you, sailed with you, could out-jump you, and suddenly you look up and you see him walking on crutches—trying, struggling in heavy steel braces. And you see the sweat down his face, and you hear him saying, 'I must get down the driveway today—all the way down the driveway.

When people say that they can only obey an authority in which they have total confidence, they are looking for an ideal father. . . . If the condition of obedience is emotional trust, the way is open to anarchy and the possible death of the community.

Afrika'y? bulmak için', diye onu uyarm??t? babas?, 'önce içinde kaybolmak gerekir'.

How monumental Lydia's grief had been when her father died! It terrifies her now, to think of it, how deeply formative that single loss was in her earlier life. Now there are sixteen more. When she thinks of this, she feels as tatty as a scrap of lace, defined not so much by what she's made of, but more by the shapes of what's missing.

The referee told me this league has never had a brawl of that magnitude," said Mr. Penderwick after a long, painful silence. "Of course, at the time I was pretending to be a casual passerby and not a father at all.

How could you ever have loved a man so cruel?' Trusia lifted her chin at that, and regarded me intensely; her voice held a trace of indignance, and I understood that the depth of her love for my father transcended all else. 'You speak as though I had a choice,' she said.

One of my teachers at the psychoanalytic institute where I trained used to say, only half humorously, that 'the most important prerequisite for a vocation as a psychotherapist is a depressed mother'; based on my history, I think that a suffering but inaccessible father and a damaged sibling should be added to the list of qualifications.

It was really important in my relationship with James Caan that I understood the relationship between the family and the father.

It's a complex relationship when your dad happened to be president and you are president and then you have all the amateur psychology that goes on when people try to speculate about motivations.

Manson liked to brag that prison was his daddy and the street was his mother.

When I was little, my dad used to say, "Son, guilt doesn't make a very fluffy pillow.

Father says that I'm one little instrument in the great Orchestra of Life, and that I must see to it that I'm always in tune, and don't drag or hit false notes

But he's here- right here, he challenged shrilly. Daddy, daddy, speak to me! It's David! Reaching out his hand, he gently touched his fathers face. He drew back then, at once, his eyes distended with terror. He isn't! He is- gone, he chattered frenziedly. This isn't the father-part that KNOWS. It's the other- that they leave. He's left it behind him- like the squirrel, and the water in the brook.

Oh, but it wouldn't be a useless walk, sir. Father said nothing was useless that helped to keep us in tune, you know. In tune! I mean, you looked as father used to look sometimes, when he felt out of tune. And he always said there was nothing like a walk to put him back again. I—I was feeling a little out of tune myself to-day, and I thought, by the way you looked, that you were, too. So I asked you to go to walk.

Andavo già a scuola da qualche mese, quando accadde una cosa solenne ed eccitante che determinò tutta la mia successiva esistenza. Mio padre mi portò un libro.

My father was a cultured man, rather unsentimental. He rarely displayed his feelings, not even within his family, and was more involved with the welfare of others than with that of his own kin. The Jewish community of Sighet held him in highest esteem; his advice on public and even private matters was frequently sought. There were four of us children. Hilda, the eldest; then Bea; I was the third and the only son; Tzipora was the youngest.

Since my father's death, nothing mattered to me anymore.

The world? The world is not interested in us. Today, everything is possible, even the crematoria …" His voice broke. "Father

Only memory matters. Mine sometimes overflows. Because it harbours my father's memories, too, since his mind has become a sieve. No, not a sieve: an autumn leaf, dried, torn. No, a phantom which I see only at midnight. I know: one cannot see a memory. But I can. I see it as the shadow of a shadow which constantly withdraws and turns inward. I hardly glimpse it, and it vanishes in the abyss.

There is an old Jewish story, an ordinary Jewish joke. A father was teaching his little son to be less afraid and have more courage. "Jump," he said, "and I will catch you." And the little boy trusted him and the little boy jumped. And when his father caught him he felt filled with love. And when he didn't, he was filled with something else…something more. Life. (From the movie 'Then She Found Me.')

It is a merciful Father who strips us when we need to be stripped, as the tree needs to be stripped of its blossoms. He is not finished with us yet, whatever the loss we suffer, for as we loose our hold on visible things, the invisible become more precious—where our treasure is, there will our hearts be.

The Lord did not say we should not use repetition. He said we should not use vain repetition. A prayer prayed from the heart of the child to the Father is never vain.

My portion. My cup. My lot is secure. My heart can be at peace. My Father is in charge. How simple!

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation" (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).