Best 7965 quotes in «father quotes» category

These young-marrying, contemporaries or juniors of the Beat Generation, have often expressed themselves as follows: "My highest aim in life is to achieve a normal healthy marriage and raise healthy [non-neurotic] children." On the face of it, this remark is preposterous. What was always taken as a usual and advantageous life-condition for work in the world and the service of God, is now regarded as an heroic goal to be striven for. Yet we see that it is a hard goal to achieve against the modern obstacles. Also it is a real goal, with objective problems that a man can work at personally, and take responsibility for, and make decisions about—unlike the interpersonal relations of the corporation, or the routine of the factory job for which the worker couldn't care less. But now, suppose the young man is achieving this goal: he has the wife, the small kids, the suburban home, and the labor-saving domestic devices. How is it that it is the same man who uniformly asserts that he is in a Rat Race? Either the goal does not justify itself, or indeed he is not really achieving it. Perhaps the truth is, if marriage and children are the goal, a man cannot really achieve it. It is not easy to conceive of a strong husband and father who does not justified in his work and independent in the world. Correspondingly, his wife feels justified in the small children, but does she have a man, do the children have a father, if he is running a Rat Race? Into what world do the small children grow up in such a home?

The son needs the father to have access to his source, and the father needs the son to have access to the future and the infinite.

The sons of God are different because they are givers, just like their Heavenly father

The soul of a child is the loveliest flower that grows in the garden of God.

The sudden loss of her father was like living with a wound that would never heal, yet her memories of him were fading more and more every day.

The sun goes down. The trees bend, they straighten up. They bend.   At eight the youngest daughter comes. She holds his hand. She says, Did they feed you? He says no. He says, Get me out of here. He wants so much to say please, but won’t.   After a pause, she says— he hears her say— I love you like salt.

The table that cannot stand upright, is an insult to the carpenter who makes it. God made us perfectly; so when we refuse to carry out the functions we were created for, our father loses the glory He deserves!

The thing I miss most from home, is having a home.

The thrill of being a great father is not seeing your children go on to become successful adults. The thrill of a great father is the journey, experiencing your child's successes along the pathway to their greatness.

The Triune God is in the world, nearer to us than we are to ourselves, yet the world is also encompassed by his loving presence. He does have the whole world in his hands, even while he inhabits the whole world. For Christians, being saved means being caught up into this communion, indwelled by God and indwelling in him, and being opened up so that other people may have room in us and we in them.

The vast majority of incest begins years before the earliest conceivable age of consent. p4

The “Word of God” is not simply the Christian Bible but exists in a threefold form: “The Word” incarnate (Jesus Followers’ King), the word prophesied and proclaimed (Prophets), and the word in scripture (Bible). All three are the self-disclosure of God, The One & Only ...in three, distinct & unique Persons, Father, Son, & Holy Spirit.

They'd listen silenty, with grave faces: but once they'd turn to each other they'd smile cruelly. He couldn't have it both ways. He'd put himself outside and outside they'd make him stay. Neither brutality nor complaining could force a way in.

They both had enormous eyes, my father’s blue, my mother’s green, that expressed with great feeling what they frequently could not.

The world is full of unrequited love,' I said finally. 'You and Patrick having problems?' Dad said, reaching around to get the butter out of the fridge. 'No, I was just wondering what you would say if I was a lesbian.' 'Come again?' said Lester. 'I'm having a hard time following this conversation.

The wrath of God is never an evil wrath. God gets angry because he loves people like a mother would love her child if someone were to harm it. There is something wrong if the mother never gets angry; it is safe to say that that is the unloving mother.

This pretty much summed up how things worked in my family. I preferred talk to action. My sister preferred action to thinking. And my father preferred to admire some far-off spot on the horizon that no one else could see.

This horrible half-grief has made me feel complicit in darkness. I worry that my sadness will be interpreted as an endorsement of his choices—of his very existence—and in this matter I don’t want to be misunderstood, so I cannot admit that I grieve him, that I care at all for the loss of this monstrous man who raised me. And in the absence of healthy action I remain frozen, a sentient stone in the wake of my father’s death. I hated him. I hated him with a violent intensity I’ve never since experienced. But the fire of true hatred, I realize, cannot exist without the oxygen of affection. I would not hurt so much, or hate so much, if I did not care. And it is this, my unrequited affection for my father, that has always been my greatest weakness. So I lie here, marinating in a sorrow I can never speak of, while regret consumes my heart. I am an orphan.

Those are Father's words, Inan. His decisions. Not yours. We are our own people. We make our own choices.

To Be Raised Without An Earthly Father Is Never An Excuse Not To Discover Purpose

Though he wouldn’t take it or offer it back, she gave. She squeezed it into him and held it there. She accepted him. She loved him in his wretchedness, kissed his ragged cheek, and called him /father./

to an uncircumcised father, irreverent son.

TIA OR TARA has stopped applying makeup to my wife’s face and is looking at Scottie with disapproval. The light is hitting this woman’s face, giving me an opportunity to see that she should perhaps be working on her own makeup. Her coloring is similar to a manila envelope. There are specks of white in her eyebrows, and her concealer is not concealing. I can tell my daughter doesn’t know what to do with this woman’s critical look. “What?” Scottie asks. “I don’t want any makeup.” She looks at me for protection, and it’s heartbreaking. All the women who model with Joanie have this inane urge to make over my daughter with the notion that they’re helping her somehow. She’s not as pretty as her older sister or her mother, and these other models think that slapping on some rouge will somehow make her feel better about her facial fate. They’re like missionaries. Mascara thumpers. “I was just going to say that I think your mother was enjoying the view,” Tia or Tara says. “It’s so pretty outside. You should let the light in.” My daughter looks at the curtain. Her little mouth is open. Her hand reaches for a tumbleweed of hair. “Listen here, T. Her mother was not enjoying the view. Her mother is in a coma. And she’s not supposed to be in bright light.” “My name is not T,” she says. “My name is Allison.” “Okay, then, Ali. Don’t confuse my daughter, please.” “I’m turning into a remarkable young lady,” Scottie says. “Damn straight.” My heart feels like one of Scottie’s clogs clomping down the hall. I don’t know why I became so angry.

To celebrate his prosperity, fellow employees and friends urged him to take a young concubine to "serve him". Even Ye Ye's boss, the London-educated K. C. Li, jokingly volunteered to "give" him a couple of girls with his bonus. Ye Ye reported all this in a matter-of-fact way in a letter to his wife, adding touchingly that he was a "one-woman man".

Torrance uses the analogy of an embrace. When we hug someone, there is a double movement. We open our arms and in so doing give ourselves to the beloved. But in the embrace we also draw that person close to us...One hand, Christ, opens the relationship, the other hand, the Holy Spirit draws us into that relationship with the Father.

to love is to destroy and that to be loved is the one to be destroyed

To the loyal and to the blood-lovers, in the good families and in the fiery dynasties, life is family and family is life. It is the same people who give advice and their vices to live well who turn out to be the ones who give resource and reason to live long.

Tough times don't define you, they refine you. ‪

TUJHE WAPIS MEIN LAUN KAISE... Tere bin jeena is dil ko sikhaun kaise, Hoon dil shikasta, tujhe wapis mein laun kaise, Tujhe yaad kar k jo girtay hein aansu mere, Dunya walon se unko chhupaun kaise, Baad tere jo kuch bhi hai beeta mujh par, Dastaan wo mein tujh ko sunaun kaise, Wo jo soya tu us din to na utha kabhi, Raha sochta mein k tujh jo jagaun kaise, Poochtay hein yeh jo mujh se k tu kaisa tha, Teri azmat ka inko bataun kaise, Tujhe bichhray ik arsa ab hone ko hai, Magar is dil ko yeh yaqeen mein dilaun kaise, Chehray ki is hansi pe na jao yaaron, Tum ko dil k zakham mein dikhaun kaise, Tere hone se hi hansta tha yeh dil saadi, Hoon pareshan ab isko hansaun kaise…!

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

Two blades clashed, ringing like a bell. Like all small boys, Philip thought his father was invincible; and this was the moment when he learned the truth.

Ugly and ungainly. The least dependable creature you ever met. Just when you think you understand her, she changes. If only I had a son," he said bitterly. Over and over he disparaged her, and George would have thought that Beatrice would be so used to it, she could not be hurt further. But he saw her neck grow stiffer and stiffer.

Tupo watu takriban bilioni saba katika dunia hii. Kila mtu ni wa kipekee. Mathalani, wewe ni tofauti na baba yako au mama yako au mtu mwingine yoyote yule. Kila mtu aliumbwa kivyake na Mwenyezi Mungu. Kila mtu ana nafasi ya kwake mwenyewe aliyopangiwa na Mungu hapa duniani. Haijalishi wewe ni mwanamke au mwanamume, mweupe au mweusi, mfupi au mrefu, mzuri au mbaya, una nafasi katika nchi na dunia hii. Unachotakiwa kufanya ni kuamka, kufumbua macho na kuujua ukweli. Tafuta maarifa katika Biblia kama wewe ni Mkristo. Tafuta maarifa katika Kurani kama wewe ni Mwislamu. Tafuta maarifa katika Yoga kama wewe haumwamini Mungu. Ukishaamka na kuujua ukweli, ukishapata nafasi katika nchi yako, kuwa kiongozi na mkarimu kwa wenzako. Jifunze kutoka kwa wengine ndani na nje ya tasnia yako. Usiwe mchoyo wa maarifa. Kuwa mwadilifu. Ukifanya hivyo utafanikiwa zaidi, utaipa heshima tasnia yako, na utaacha alama katika dunia baada ya kuondoka. Kuacha alama katika dunia si lazima upate nafasi katika dunia. Kuacha alama katika dunia acha alama katika nchi yako.

Ukimheshimu baba au mama yako katika mambo mema au mabaya umemheshimu Mungu katika mambo mema.

Well, in that case, no. I’m not your father. But if you go with another definition, meaning ‘a man who wants to be in your life and help raise you,’ then yes. I am.

Very few people get a chance to quantify how much their father loves them. But I did. The job should have taken forty-five minutes, but Dad spent three and a half hours on it. My father loves me 366 percent more than he loves anything else. Good to know.

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

Victory occurs when you let God fight your battles.

We can discover much about God by looking at nature. Take the Trinity for example. The Trinity is sort of like an apple. You've got the seeds, the flesh, and the skin. Three different things. Still, together they form one thing, an apple. And under no circumstances will one apple be three things, but the seeds, skin, and flesh will always be three things.

Well, sir, do you mean to remain there, commending my father’s taste in wine, or do you mean to accompany me to Ashtead?” “Set off for Ashtead at this hour, when I have been traveling for two days?” said Sir Horace. “Now, do, my boy, have a little common sense! Why should I?” “I imagine that your parental feeling, sir, must provide you with the answer! If it does not, so be it! I am leaving immediately!” “What do you mean to do when you reach Lacy Manor?” asked Sir Horace, regarding him in some amusement. “Wring Sophy’s neck!” said Mr. Rivenhall savagely. “Well, you don’t need my help for that, my dear boy!” said Sir Horace, settling himself more comfortably in his chair.

We must avoid possession," he said. "But, oh, let me kiss you.

We need to get to the heart of each heart issue—and we can’t do it. Only the Maker can. The world needs #Jesus.

We're not mad," he began, meaning he was. He was always a plural when mad, as though grammatically throwing his lot in with her mother gave him the power of her authority.

We need to get home and put some ointments and ice on the stings. Vinegar will make it worse, so if you thought Giraffe Boy could pee on you, you’re shit out of luck.” She agrees as if prepared for this—the punishment, the medication, the swelling, the pain that hurts her now and the pain that will hurt her later. She seems okay with my disapproval. She’s gotten her story, after all, and she’s beginning to see how much easier physical pain is to tolerate than emotional pain. I’m unhappy that she’s learning this at such a young age. “The hospital will have ointments and ice,” she says.

What do you know about somebody not being good enough for somebody else? And since when did you care whether Corinthians stood up or fell down? You've been laughing at us all your life. Corinthians. Mama. Me. Using us, ordering us, and judging us: how we cook your food; how we keep your house. But now, all of a sudden, you have Corinthians' welfare at heart and break her up from a man you don't approve of. Who are you to approve or disapprove anybody or anything? I was breathing air in the world thirteen years before your lungs were even formed. Corinthians, twelve. . . . but now you know what's best for the very woman who wiped the dribble from your chin because you were too young to know how to spit. Our girlhood was spent like a found nickel on you. When you slept, we were quiet; when you were hungry, we cooked; when you wanted to play, we entertained you; and when you got grown enough to know the difference between a woman and a two-toned Ford, everything in this house stopped for you. You have yet to . . . move a fleck of your dirt from one place to another. And to this day, you have never asked one of us if we were tired, or sad, or wanted a cup of coffee. . . . Where do you get the RIGHT to decide our lives? . . . I'll tell you where. From that hog's gut that hangs down between your legs. . . . I didn't go to college because of him. Because I was afraid of what he might do to Mama. You think because you hit him once that we all believe you were protecting her. Taking her side. It's a lie. You were taking over, letting us know you had the right to tell her and all of us what to do. . . . I don't make roses anymore, and you have pissed your last in this house.

We would be in each other's lives again. No, he hadn't been the best father, but he was my father, and we loved each other. We needed each other. Though he'd disappointed me countless times through the years, life had already proven too short for me to hold on to that. So I let go of my hurt. I let go years of frustration between us. Most of all, I let go of any desire to change my father and I accepted him for who he was. I took all of my anguish and released it like a fistful of helium balloons to the sky, and I chose to forgive him.

What in the world is this abomination?” Lissa, only slightly more tactful, asked, “Adrian, is this some kind of joke?

Whatever it was her father wanted, Emma did not know how to provide it. She felt confused by what he did, and imagined the problem was a lack in her, rather than him. And there was something else: My dad was always late when we had our meetings - i i never wanted to go in the first place, and then i'd be sitting and waiting, feeling so ugly and worthless because i wasn't worth being on time for . . . One time when my father was late he said he fell asleep . . . I wouldn't let myself cry in front of him.

What I most hate is the books and films and all other stuff which all the time end in happy end, do you hate it... It's better to be in happy and... - After all I wanted to show the taste of the real world, a injury in father's childhood, then injury when his wife dies...

What makes a good father? A good father sets an example that his children want to follow. A good father provides for the needs of his children—both material and non-material. A good father demonstrates his love in both words and actions. A good father provides guidance in a positive fashion.