Best 56 quotes in «parental love quotes» category

We wants you to surprise us and disappoint us and impress and amaze us. Come home, Bod.

When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him. Nights dark beyond darkness and the days more gray each one than what had gone before. Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world.

When it comes to the crunch, coming out is the greatest of all confessions. Nothing is more difficult to acknowledge. When we become ourselves we reach right back to the time when we were conceived out of our parents’ passion. We murder their lives. There can never be any forgiveness.

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.

When love is unreliable and you are a child, you assume that it is the nature of love -- its quality -- to be unreliable. Children do not find fault with their parents until later. In the beginning the love you get is the love that sets.

Without warning he had become witness to something that stretched back through the eons, ties both elastic and enduring, surpassing death, surpassing life. She was his child. It was as simple as that and that complex.

Y'all know how much I love you? "Infinity and back again," I say the way I've said it a million times. And then, daddy says to me, "go on and add a little bit more to that.

you really got to do it--it's like you don't know what love is until you have a kid.

You and I. Hand in hand. An endless story of love. A love that grew in me for 9 months and only grows bigger each day. You and I. Hand in hand. An endless journey. Countless steps. One destination - your happiness. You and I. Hand in hand. My heart and blood. I'll share it all - take it - my whole life is you.

And the horrible thing was: what if they were right? What if she lived her whole life and never really knew what love was? What if it was deeper than she ever imagined? What if she died without ever knowing what she missed? How would she know to even miss it? Love--deep, profound, soul-stirring love--happened on this planet, in this life. And she missed it. On the other hand, her mother had a point: babies were awful. They were selfish, greedy, expensive and ultimately resentful of what they later would decide you had withheld from them. You were, in effect, creating someone uniquely fine-tuned to discern your slightest faults and broadcast them from the highest point.

As Ernest Becker observes in The Denial of Death, the very thought of disobeying authority appears to awaken the anxiety connected with the possible loss, during infancy, of parental love, respect or support. The unexamined beliefs and experiences that generate our reliance on, and deference to authority, seem rooted in a profound existential uncertainty: the patient looks to the doctor to relieve this uncertainty, not only about not feeling well and not knowing why, but also about not knowing what to do, what action to undertake. In other words, the expertise of the physician relieves the patient of some of the burden of responsibility.

Children see beauty in everything.

Children of God, Children of the light.

Every child should be nurture with great love. The feeling of great love promotes wellness and potential for greatness.

God's greatest blessing; gift of children.

A day of birth is a glorious event.

Children are not a lifelong sentence but a lifelong reward.

Every day we are reborn.

Family is your most reliable source of support in any situation because love from your family is unconditional.

He never cried, not even when his alarm went off. Swaddled in his Moses basket, wires trailing out the bottom, his monitor flashing green, green, green, his entire four-pound body motionless except his eyelids, it seemed he understood everything I was working so hard to understand: his mother's love, his brother's ceaseless crying: he was already forgiving me my shortcomings as a father; he was a distillation of a dozen generations, all stripped into a single flame and stowed still-burning inside the this slip of his ribs. I'd hold him to the window and he'd stare out into the night, blue tributaries of veins pulsing his neck, his big eyelids slipping down now and then, and it would feel as if tethers were falling away, and the two of us were gently rising, through the glass, through the trees, through the interweaving layers of atmosphere, into whatever was beyond the sky.

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 never cried, not even when his alarm went off. Swaddled in his Moses basket, wires trailing out the bottom, his monitor flashing green, green, green, his entire four-pound body motionless except his eyelids, it seemed he understood everything I was working so hard to understand: his mother's love, his brother's ceaseless crying: he was already forgiving me my shortcomings as a father; he was a distillation of a dozen generations, my grandpa's grandpa's grandpa, all stripped into a single flame and stowed still-burning inside the thin slip of his ribs. I'd hold him to the window and he'd stare out into the night, blue tributaries of veins pulsing his neck, his big eyelids slipping down now and then, and it would feel as if tethers were falling away, and the two of us were gently rising, through the glass, through the trees, through the interweaving layers of atmosphere, into whatever was beyond the sky

Here we go. The Harlequin moment when mother and child meet for the first time in twenty years. Spare me the drama, please. I had enough of that in the foster homes they dumped me in.

[H]e knows he should chastise the girl, he knows that, but she is his brightest Amber and he would not have her dimmed.

I can guarantee it, " Jenks said as their eyes met. The second that you see her, you will fall in love. You will do anything for her, anything at all, and she will know it and love you back. That’s all kids want to know—that you love them.

I am empowered and thankful for my parents’ love and support.

[...] he thinks [...] as though his love for his daughter will outstrip the limits of his body. The walls could fall away, even the whole city, and the brightness of that feeling would not wane.

I cry now as I write this. So lasting are the scars of the child who never feels worthy of love. So many cycles in my life of having to learn that I am indeed worthy of tenderness.

I have a son,' says JJ, marveling at the sound and truth of the words... 'You know, I love you and Mom... But I don't even know this baby and the love- ' JJ clears his throat and wipes his suddenly wet eyes with the back of his hand. 'It's bigger. I'd lie down in traffic for him right now. I didn't know it could get bigger.' Joe nods. 'This is only the beginning.

I didn't just see a child in my dreams—I felt it in my heart.

I’ll be your friend until you find a better one.

I'll never forget the stillness, the hesitation, and a trace of something I'd never before seen on Ghosh's face: cunning. Then it gave in to resignation and a faraway look. For a moment I saw the world through his eyes, his intellect, his sweeping vision...a vision that recapitulated our birth and looked to the future, looked past his life to the end of mine and beyond. And then and only then did it settle, gather, and focus, on the now, on a moment when the love was so palpable between father and son that the thought that it might end, and this memory be its only legacy, was unacceptable.

I loved that bridge he built over the creek in the back of the house. [...] Or that baby bed he built for Ricky. I told him he didn't have to spend so much time on it, but he said it had to last, and the thing ended up weighing two hundred pounds and I couldn't move it. I said, 'How long does a baby bed have to last, anyway?' But maybe he thought if it was strong enough, it might keep Ricky a baby.

In the quiet of the graveyard, the couple knelt together in soul-stretching silence—wishing, waiting, hoping, praying.

It is the responsibility of parent to love and care for their children.

I lay awake long into the night, obsessing over Lucy's failings. Never mind the drugs and adultery; she seemed to lack the most basic parental instincts for keeping the children out of harm's way. The drip, drip, drip of her poor judgment and neglect was pushing me over the edge.

If you want to know what your child is doing, look at their friends, they wouldn't be friends with them if they weren't doing the same things.

Pray daily for your family.

Mrs. Winterson did not have a soothing personality. Ask for reassurance and it would never come. I never asked her if she loved me. She loved me on those days when she was able to love. I really believe that is the best she could do.

Silver linings abound: I always knew I loved my son, but you certainly get a “perspective-check” when you go through a parting like that. His despair is tough to bear witness to, but reinforces how dearly he loves me. It strengthens my already tough resolve to remain as a positive influence in his life, despite the geographic distance between us.

Saying ‘no’ to your children can be an act of love.

Our children want more than presents, that want our PRESENCE.

She will not plant the seed in their mind, that a parent is capable of abandoning her children, of saying to them You are not enough. For Pari, the children and Eric have always been enough. They always will be.

The accountant lingers at his children's doorway a moment more, listening to the easy rhythm of their breathing, and something cold moves through him, like the passage of a ghost - but he know that's not it. It's more like the portent of a future. A future that must never come to pass... ...and for the first time, he gives rise to a thought that is silently echoed in millions of homes that night. My God... what have we done?

The birth of a child is a joy to the parent and the world.

The birth of a child is a sacred phenomenon.

The day of birth is day of life.

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

Thus bound together, they sheltered the child from the cold, dark night, enveloping him in warmth.

We are God's chosen people. We are God's treasured possession. Let us rise in mighty strength to possess our rightful places as God's children.