Quotes about dad

We’re gonna do like Posh and Becks and call it after the place it was conceived.”“Where’s that?” I asked.“King of Prussia.

A great father is one whose children look up to him rather than away from him.

No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you've got, say "Oh, my gosh," and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It's not a question of choice.

Let me say for now that we knew once the Creation was broken, true fathering would be much more lacking than mothering. Don't misunderstand me, both are needed- but an emphasis on fathering is necessary because of the enormity of its absence

He treats the person as if they were fully whole.We become what others expect us to be. Dad expected me to get better and even assumed I would have something helpful to say. Funny how we rise and fall to the assumptions of others.

She didn’t want to keep talking about him as if everything was okay. Worst of all, she hated sorting through his mail. Reading the hatred people had for her family and worse, reading how others immortalized him into a god for what he’d done.

Instructions for Dad.I don't want to go into a fridge at an undertaker's. I want you to keep me at home until the funeral. Please can someone sit with me in case I got lonely? I promise not to scare you.I want to be buried in my butterfly dress, my lilac bra and knicker set and my black zip boots (all still in the suitcase that I packed for Sicily). I also want to wear the bracelet Adam gave me.Don't put make-up on me. It looks stupid on dead people.I do NOT want to be cremated. Cremations pollu

As I enlarged my vision to see the bigger picture of my dad’s full life, I was better able to let go of being stuck in memories of its end.

Evan no longer tells people I fight bad guys for a living. When asked, he tells his friends that his dad talks on the phone a lot and vacuums on occasion.

Certain things are extremely difficult to understand, such as the concept of unconditional love, perhaps it is due to mislead thoughts about God’s love for us. Assuming that we can say or do certain things and suddenly lose this love and approval. But I when I picture God I picture him standing with his arms out saying, "Beth stop punishing yourself." And he says it like my dad used to say, with such great authority and assurance in his voice that I can't help but smile, and know it's gonna be o

What else can you tell me?” Dad stares at me. “What have you learned while you were awake?”I learned that life is so, so fragile. I learned that you can know someone for just days and never forget the impression he left on you. I learned that art can be beautiful and sad at the same time. I learned that if someone loves you, he’ll wait for you to love him back. I learned that how much you want something doesn’t determine whether you get it or not, that “no” might not be enough, that life isn’t f

That night, stargazing on the deck with Dad, eyes on the sky, he pointed out Orion, Betelgeuse. "It's an art to read the stars, baby."I never wanted to leave his side-my sure song for so long. Now? His eyes are stone changed. Just looking at them hurts my heart.

Was it too much to expect the rest of the world to care about grammar or pay attention to details?

Honestly, I'd rather be anywhere else. Even home, where my dad begins almost every conversation with, "You should lose the black clothes and wear something with color." Puh-lease. Like I want to look like every Barbie clone in Hell High, a.k.a. Oklahoma's insignificant Haloway High School. Ironically, Dad doesn't appreciate the bright blue streaks in my originally blond/now-dyed-black hair. Go figure. That's color, right?

We all have days when we say that we are gown-ups, that we are mature, have a lot of experience and don't need advise from others.But it is our mom and dad we turn to when we're in trouble or can't find the answer to a question.

It made a big difference in my life to grow up with a dad who wasn't afraid of how great my mom was.

Father is Everyone's First Preceptor.Happy Father's Day!

That's such bullshit, Mythology repeated by parents because it lets them force their kids into sports and push them too hard by pretending that in the end it will pay off with the holy scholarship. You know how many kids get a free ride? Hardly any. Like, maybe fourteen.' -Finn (165)

He had been searching for it his entire life. He had devoted himself to poetry to find it. Now, in the middle of his life, he found it. It was in the face of the love of his life, his daughter. She who had never blushed before, now blushed. And in that blushing, he knew, was the existence of God. That was the day her father learned what God was. God was pure beauty, God was his daughter’s face when she blushed.

He had won, easily. This was something else he could do, and do well, and his Dad had been there to witness his success.

In his imagination, he grabbed his dad by the throat and squeezed until an old mans face turned purple. No pleading, no begging, simply... nothing.

Zara.” He sighs. The wind bellows outside. “How can I make you understand this? I need your mom. If I don’t get her, more boys will die.”“That’s ridiculous.”“No, it’s just how it is.”I think for a second. “If that’s true, then why did Ian try to turn me?”He loses his composure. His face shifts into something worried, something almost human. “Did he kiss you?”“Almost. Betty killed him first.”He almost smiles. He pulls his hand through his hair. “Betty is fierce.”“Is that why you stay away when sh

Will your dad freak if I kiss you good-bye?” he asked.

At this moment, I know that the answer has to be yes. I am defeated. By my own father. How Darth Vader.

Without my dad, I wouldn't be here.

My Dad is my hero.

He was supposed to be the first man to tell her that she was beautiful and help her determine who she was before anyone had the opportunity to label her. She was supposed to be his “little girl”.

Emma stared at the ceiling of the hotel room. Her thoughts went over every memorial, each picture, the families and children left behind. At this point it was a nightly routine. Some people counted sheep. Emma counted her father’s victims. One by one.

My dad is not a sports guy but was drawn to the theatrics of wrestling.

The memory slowly faded away. I could feel tears strolling down my snout from my eyes. I missed my father... He did what he could to save me that day.

A man after God's own heart is...a man who yearns to please God,a man who desires to grow spiritually,a man who had a heart that obeys.

Beautiful is the man who leaves a legacy that of shared love and life. It is he who transfers meaning, assigns significance and conveys in his loving touch the fine art and gentle shaping of a life. This man shall be called, Father.

My dad once said... "Some friends are like "rubber wrappers"; they bind with you safely but get weaker when you stretch them too much". Treat your friends with care, else the elasticity of their love for you may not go lasting!

Behind every great man is a man greater, his father.

The amount of time we give to something indicates it's importance to us.

My father looked as if I’d just gutted him, and I felt a pang of regret—but it was mingled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. It felt good to hurt his feelings—it was payback for the way his choices had irrevocably damaged my own.

(Don Fey had a large rubber stamp that said "bullshit," which was and is awesome.)

Your father doesn't fucking play games. you would never come home with a shamrock tattoo in that house.

Before you and your spouse can work as a team raising your children, you must first work as a team in your marriage.

Be more than a father, be a dad. Be more than a figure, be an example.

I walked out of his room sure I'd said the right thing maybe not as a father but as a Dad. I'd said the right thing, for once in my life.

... family men, Claude.""Then why aren't they home with their families?""You haven't been listening to me, Claude. It takes lots of honey to raise a family these days..." No, it isn't even that, these teddy bears don't like honey as much as they think they do. They think they're supposed to like it, the way they're supposed to like women and children. They think they're supposed to act like real grizzlies, but they don't feel it. You can't blame them, they just don't have it inside them. What t

It's rally bad when dads cry.

My dad was always snoozing on the couch, like Dagwood Bumstead. He was a lazy motherfucker. God bless him. He was always working on some kind of get-rich-quick scheme. This is what my dad was like: I'd say, Hey, Dad, we studied penguins today in school. He'd say, Yeah? I'm a penguin fucker from way back. Dad, I saw a giraffe at the zoo today. Yeah? I'm a giraffe fucker from way back. That's my dad. My dad was a giraffe fucker.

My dad’s life was magnificent, but only if I let myself see and remember more than his years of decline.

Not every Father is a Dad..

Wearing that? Wouldn't you fancy a shapeless cardigan instead? You rock a shapeless cardigan, honey.

Daddy?”“I’m right here, baby.”Lumps form in my throat, going all the way down into the core of me.It’s his voice. His. Right there. I reach toward the doorknob but I don’t get to turn it.Nick smashes at me with his head, pushing against my lower jaw and cheek, like a blow. His muzzle moves my head away from the door. He presses his face in between me and the wood. Fur gets in my mouth. I spit it out and push at him.“That’s my dad. My dad.” I slap the door. “He’s on the other side. The pixies wil

See!” Dad yelled. “Boys don’t stay with whores, Bianca. They leave them. And I’m not going to let you turn into a whore. Not my daughter. This is for your own good.”I looked up as he reached a hand down to grab my arm. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting to feel his fingers clamp around my forearm.But they never did.I heard a loud thud, and Dad grunted in pain. My eyes flew open. Wesley moved away from Dad, who was massaging his jaw with a shocked look on his face. “Why you little shithead!”“Are yo

He touched the screen as if trying to reach through with his hand. "You're a wonderful young lady. I don't tell you that often enough. You remind me so much of your mother. She'd be proud. And Grandpa Tom" --he chuckled-- "he always said you'd be the most powerful voice in our family. You're going to outshine me some day, you know. They're going to remember me as Piper McLean's father, and that's the best legacy I can imagine.

Evan stares at me.I try to hug him. He takes a step back. I pause, my heart in my throat. I’ve got to reach out to him, let myself be vulnerable. I find the courage, but he backs up again.“You can’t go to Iraq anymore.”“I know.”He looks up at Deanna, then back to me. “Did you fight bad guys? You told me you weren’t.” His voice is suspicious, full of accusation. He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame him for that.“No, Evan. I didn’t fight bad guys.”I can’t bring myself to tell him the complete tr

She loved him, even though it was so hard to love anybody else after loving my dad. I think I knew this before she did.

I always wanted what Mom and Dad had.

My mom, dad, grandparents, we all do voices.

A muffled curse comes from the doorway. I jerk my head to find Jeb there, blood drained from his face. His gaze is fierce yet dejected, a deep and gut-twisting wound I haven’t seen since his dad was alive and tormenting him.

My father looked as if I'd just gutted him - but it was mingled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. It felt good to hurt his feelings.

We are all born free from all religious affiliations and only come to believe in such things after being introduced to it ― so, atheism is the default position. Although some children are not indoctrinated with a specific religion before the age of reason, there are many more who are.

Her mother told her once that her father was sick. That the sickness made him do it. She made it seem logical. As if he was lying in a hospital bed with cancer rather than rotting in a prison cell for rape and murder.

Listen to me, kitten. Win or lose, you’ll always be a princess to me.

As I inch forward to embrace my life again by being mindful, writing books, and planning adventures, I sense my dad would approve. I know he would want me to be happy.

Joshie has always told Post Human Services Staff to keep a diary, to remember who we were because every moment, our brains and synapses are being rebuilt and rewired with maddening disregard for our personalities, so that each year, each month, each day, we transfer into a different person, an utterly unfaithful iteration of our original selves, of the drooling kid in the sandbox. But not me. I am still a facsimile of my early childhood. I am still looking for a loving dad to lift me up and brus

You become a man when, in having children, you not only physically look after and protect them but also protect them with all the love and learning you have to give.

I'm justthe reason they married.Mum saysI was a surprise.Dad saysI was an accident.Truth is ...I am their mistake.

With the sensation that he was passing through the Looking-Glass, Max stared at his father as if he had never seen him before—simultaneously impressed and unnerved at the thought that, after all these years, he still knew so little about him.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad? No, that wasn't it at all. Well, they did do that, perhaps, but they also allowed you to become the person, and the writer, that you had it in you to be.

No man can protect you like your father, No women can love you like your mother.

And I feel like a real Dad when I read to her at night. She won't sleep without one story, at least.

Live your life. Be happy as you can be, let go of the things that don't matter, and fight.

Count your blessings take care of the people you love.'Happy father's day to all the greatest POP,DAD,KIN in the world.

Nobility is a lie. A pretence that high standing comes from anything more than money or martial prowess. Any dolt can play the noble, and as you'll discover in time, daughter, it's mostly dolts who do.

...some nights I'd sneak out and listen to the radio in my Dad's old Chevy - children need solitude - they don't teach that in school...

My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me.

A best friend is the only one that walks into your life when the world has walked out.

When you're a kid all you know is that your dad puts on his suit or overalls and vanishes from your life until nightfall. Sometimes my pops came back exhausted and scarlet-eyed, as if he'd been engaged in a low wattage war someplace.

To lead solely on the behalf of those being led is the utter pinnacle of fatherhood, and it is sad that so few ever stand on the summit.

I love you beyond paint, beyond melodies, beyond words. And I hope you will always feel that, even when I'm not around to tell you so.

Beauty is dad kissing mom's hand when it cramps.Beauty is seeing a Persian woman dance.Ugly is not the absence of beauty.Uglyis the inability to identify it.The inability to be surprised by it.It is the persistent reluctance to be made a child by it.Beauty is simplythe manifestation oflove.

A father teaches his children that the battle is not determined by the enemy that stands around them, but by the God Who stands within them. And that lesson can only be driven home as they watch their father stand around them, while God stands within their father.

Should I leave you two alone?" he asked, changing the subject."He's taken," I said, accepting the fact that forgiving himself was something Reyes didn't do. "Osh. By someone very special.""And who might that be?"This might be a little hard for him to swallow. Tact was definitely in order. Or I could just blurt it out and watch his expression go from content to disbelief to horror to a bristly, murderous kind of fury. I chose door number two. "He's destined to be with our daughter."Reyes's expres

Hell, there're already too many psychologists; too many everythings. Too many engineers, too many chemists, too many doctors, too many dentists, too many sociologists. There aren't enough people who can actually do anything, really know how to make this world work.When you thing about it; when you look at the way it really is; God, we've got - well, let's say, there's 100 percent. Half of these are under eighteen or over sixty-five; that is not working. This leaves the middle fifty percent. Half

Model the qualities that you want your children to show to each other.

My Dad has been a feminist, way before I learnt how to spell the word.

When my children complain that I'm forgetful, I remind them that DAD is just ADD spelled sideways.

The greatest thing a father can do for his children is to respect the woman that gave birth to his children. It is because of her that you have the greatest treasures in your life. You may have moved on, but your children have not. If you can’t be her soulmate, then at least be thoughtful. Whom your children love should always be someone that you acknowledge with kindness. Your children notice everything and will follow your example.

To your parents you are still that innocent baby, and sometimes even you will need your father's hand and your mother's lap.

There is no substitute for your impassioned prayers on behalf of your children

The best way to encourage your children is to let them know you are praying for them.

It is not that you give birth to a child that matters most. Rather, it is what you birth into them.

I was desperate to discover what nothing felt like. It was the absence of something that attracted me. It was the start. Everything important originated with nothingness.

Jeeter?" Grace whispered into her walkie-talkie. "Are you awake?" She waited.A few weeks ago, she and Jeeter had started chatting on their walkie-talkies late at night when she couldn't sleep. He always answered her call no matter how late it was."I'm here," his voice echoed back. "Trouble sleeping again?""Yeah.""Another bad dream?""Uh-huh," she sniffed, unexpected tears flooding her eyes. My dad was calling for me, but I couldn't find him." She couldn't believe she'd said it. She'd never told a

At first I thought he was laughing because his shoulders were shaking, but then he put his palms on his eyes and I realized he was crying. It was the quietest crying I've ever heard. Like a whisper. I was going to go over to him, but then I thought maybe he was whisper-crying because he didn't want me or anyone else to hear him.

If you love your dad, it’s tough when he dies. If you don’t like your dad, it’s tough when he dies. Because you lose that guy. Whatever you didn’t get, you miss. And what you did get, you miss.

I cannot imagine how much I must’ve suffered in my previous lives to be fortunate enough to have parents like you in this life.

My mum and dad had worked incredibly hard to afford me an education.

The father who has selflessly poured himself into the life of his children may leave no other monument than that of his children. But as for a life well lived, no other monument is necessary.

I don’t remember his face or the place we ate. I only remember how he grabbed my hand and his voice when he spoke of his dad.

IN the book of my heart, pages keep falling out, many of them marked "Mom and Dad.

The difference between a ‘man’ and a ‘father’ is that the former shares his genes, but latter gives his life.

If a father does not altogether embrace a life of uncompromised sacrifice as the core of all principles by which he nurtures his children, he is a father by birth only and no power on earth can ever or will ever make that sufficient.