Best 7965 quotes in «father quotes» category

There is more important work to be done here. The strong must lead us into a new energy age before our world dies out. Who's going to do that? You, Caleb? Your face bears new marks–you are not ready to win such a battle. - Adrian

There must be some kind of internal time distortion effect in here, because when I look at myself in the little mirror above my sink, what I see is my father's face, my face turning into his. I am beginning to feel how the man looked, especially how he looked on those nights he came home so tired he couldn't even make it through dinner without nodding off, sitting there with his bowl of soup cooling in front of him, a rich pork-and-winter-melon-saturated broth that, moment by moment, was losing - or giving up - its tiny quantum of heat into the vast average temperature of the universe.

There’s a wound most troubled boys share, which, at its core, comes from the feeling that they don’t have their father’s unconditional love.

There's no better cure for the fear of taking after one's father, than not to know who he is.

There were always a few words that his flamboyant English insisted he mispronounce: words, I often imagined, over which his heart took hidden pleasure when he had got them by the gullet and held them there until they empurpled to the color of his own indignant nature. "Another" was one of them--I cannot count how many times each day we would hear him say, "Anther?" "Anther?" It did not matter whether it was another meal or another government or another baby at issue: all we heard was a voice bristling over with amazement at the thought that another could exist. It seemed his patience could not sustain itself over the trisyllabic, tripping up his voice on most trisyllables that did not sound like "Pakistan"--for there was a word over which he could not slow down, to exude ownership as he uttered it!

There's One Person above all others who desires an extraordinary life for you. He is a Father who delights, like any good father, in the achievements and happiness of His children. His name is God! And nothing will please Him more than seeing you reach your highest potential.

There were two types of strong men: those like Uncle Monty and Abe Steinheim, remorseless about their making money, and those like my father, ruthlessly obedient to their idea of fair play.

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

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 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 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 “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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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 an uncircumcised father, irreverent son.

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 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. ‪

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

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

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.

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…!

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.

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

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.

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.

Victory occurs when you let God fight your battles.

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

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

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, 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.

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

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.

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.