Best 3253 quotes in «dad quotes» category

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.

Love means Daddy Saying keep your mama company till I get back And me doing it

Ma kept the alcohol for company in the dining room china cabinet. All the sweet after-dinner liqueurs nestle there together. But there is one bottle she never knew about right here in the kitchen. I reach deep into the cabinets and remove Dad's hidden bottle of Lagavulin. I set a tumbler on the counter and pour him two fingers of scotch. 'This is a tumbler, watch it tumble,' he said. The golden brown liquid, more gold than brown, somewhere between weak tea and apple juice. I stare at it. Nothing. Out loud I say, "This is a tumbler, watch it tumble," an incantation or a toast or both, and drink it down. It's like drinking a handful of matches. It burns and then smokes. I fight back a cough. There's a note of something deep and earthy, like beets or truffles, which then vanishes, leaving only a palate seared clean.

My clutch and wrap had fallen to the floor because both my arms were around his neck, my body was plastered to his, one of his arms was tight around my back, the other hand had slid in my dress and down and was cupping the cheek of my ass, skin to skin (I was wearing a thong, which was a smart move on my part not only to avoid panty lines but because his warm, strong hand cupping my ass felt freaking great) when I heard my father clear his throat.

Mom hadn't met Ramon; her advocacy was more arm's length - petitions, the website, letter writing, meetings with politicians. Her friend Hanna had formed a close friendship with Ramon though, visiting him as often as she could. Hanna told me that Ramon's greatest regret was that he wouldn't get to see his daughter grow up. And Jeremy's dad, who had that opportunity, was just throwing it away. It made me furious, and I couldn't let it go.

Mum is a perfectionist and Dad is a pedant and that was partly why their marriage didn't work so well, Elsa figures. Because a perfectionist and a pedant are two very different things.

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

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

My entire life was about nothing but me for twenty-five years, but then your mother came along, and you came along, and now I wake up in the middle of the night, several times a week, and have to check you're still breathing before I can get back to sleep. Can you grasp that? If I had acted this way before I became someone's dad, they would have locked me up in a padded cell with an iPod full of dolphin sounds. I am not afraid of saying I love you, it's just the rest of it that scares the living crap out of me.

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.

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!

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.

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

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.

Parents expect only two things from their children, obedience in their childhood and respect in their adulthood.

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 you all right?” Wesley asked, kneeling in front of me. “Did you just punch my dad?” I couldn’t help but wonder if I was delirious. Had all of this really just happened? Totally bizarre. “Yes,” Wesley admitted. “How dare you touch me!” Dad screamed, but he was having trouble balancing enough to approach us again. “How dare you fuck my daughter, then hit me, you son of a bitch!” I’d never heard my father swear like that before. “Come on,” Wesley said, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here. You’re coming with me.” He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close against his warm body, and ushered me out the open door.

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.

The one who say thanks to his mother and father , is the biggest fool in the world.

There are different kinds of fathers. Those who love unconditionally, those who love on condition, and those who never love at all.

The thaw came and the snow melted away and so did my dad. 'til there wasn't nothing left.

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.

This was my dad, for gosh sakes! After not seeing him for two years, I had finally found him-in another dimension playing chess with a ghost! How was I supposed to calm down?

Today is not the real Father's Day. It is the man made version. The real Father's Day are the other 364 other days of the year that I get to see my boys grow into men and my girls grow into ladies and feel I had a slight part of the people that they turned out to be. Not a better feeling in the world. With every life lesson taught, half of which are understood at the time, and the other half that are understood after I am told to stop being ridiculous - EVERYDAY is Father's Day. And I wouldn't trade it for the world. Good and bad. I can honestly say there is no feeling on earth, like being a father and a dad.

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

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.

When you're a dad, there's no one above you. If I don't do something that has to be done, who is going to do it?

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

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.

Yeah, I know, the Mars thing. I've been meaning to talk to you about that. When did you get the idea it would be cute to carve my dad's cell-phone number on a rock in the middle of Syrtis Major? He hates it when people call me on his phone." Kit gave Nita a resigned look. "Sorry," he said, "I couldn't resist.

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.

... You can't outrun your problems, Daisy. They'll be just be waiting for you when you come back.

Your kids need you to be present - but that doesn’t mean in the building, playing X-Box and yelling at them. Change diapers. Show them how to treat their mother by treating her good yourself. Tell them that you love them. Laugh with them.

A black widow loves her mate then kills him. A praying mantis loves her mate then eats him. Women love my dad, but he's too big to eat.

[about being a father] I don't really remember what it was like before. Whatever I had going on, it was bullshit. It wasn't important. It's kind of a nice thing about being a dad. My identity is really about them now, and what I can do for them, so it sort of takes the pressure off of your own life. What am I going to do, who am I? Who cares, you've got to get your kids to school. So I like it that way.

A car crossed two lanes of traffic, flipped, and landed on my dad's car. I don't blame cars. My dad loved cars. I don't have many memories of my dad. The love of cars is all I have of him, really.

According to my parents, I just started drumming when I was two. I traveled with them from five to seven on the road, playing percussion. Between 8 and 12, my dad sort of prepared me by teaching me every aspect of road life.

According to the group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, fish have feelings too. Whenever my sons go fishing they always tell me, "Dad it doesn't hurt a fish to get hooked." Well I watch and I see and I believe it's painful for the fish.

Remember the end goal You are trying to make a full grown human capable of surviving in the wild on their own. You aren't going to keep them forever. You can't make them live your life for you. You can't coddle them and do everything for them. You are preparing them to leave you. Don't lose sight of that!

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.

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 expression slowly changed from content to disbelief to horror to a bristly, murderous kind of fury. "Oh, hell, no." He shot to his feet. "A Daeva? Are you fucking kidding me?" Just like a dad. "Yes, a Daeva. But I wouldn't dismiss him so offhandedly." He whirled around and scowled. Not really at me. Just in general. "What do you mean?" I pressed one corner of my mouth together in thought. "Okay, you know how I was the grim reaper all of my life, then suddenly I'm also this god from another dimension? And how you're the son of Satan all your life, then suddenly you're a god from this dimension? Who does that? Our lives are so weird. I think that maybe Osh is something else, too." I traced one of the dark lines on his face. "I think there's more than meets the eye. I see greatness in him, Reyes. I see a power beyond our imaginings. I see him giving his life for our daughter." "Oh." He sat back down, satisfied. "As long as he dies in the end.

...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...

So, you’re handed a baby and a new name (Daddy) and you now have to choose to accept the challenge. Here’s the thing. I don’t believe that rejecting it’s an option. I mean, people DO reject it. But you shouldn’t. You choose then and there to be a father. And you make that choice, day in and day out to make sure their needs are met, that the example is set for them, that they are loved, cherished, corrected, and challenged. You have to choose it.

Tears filled her eyes, and this time neither of them bothered to wipe them away. She stared at the spot long after the lost animal disappeared, silently telling her dad she’d seen one too.

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.

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)

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

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

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.

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.

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 fair, that my parents can’t save me, that maybe no one can. “Nothing much,” I mutter.