A Quote by John Carter Cash

Dad never ceased to remind my mother of his love for her. — © John Carter Cash
Dad never ceased to remind my mother of his love for her.
When I talk about unrequited love, most of you probably think about romantic love, but there are many other kinds of love that are not adequately returned, if they are returned at all. An angry adolescent may not love her mother back as her mother loves her; an abusive father doesn't return the innocent open love of his young child. But grief is the ultimate unrequieted love. However hard and however long we love someone who has died, they can never love us back. At least that is how it feels.
His love for my mother wasn't about looking back and loving something that would never change. It was about loving my mother for everything -- for her brokenness and her fleeing, for her being there right then in that moment before the sun rose and the hospital staff came in. It was about touching that hair with the side of his fingertip, and knowing yet plumbing fearlessly the depths of her ocean eyes.
My dad left his psychology hat at the door and put his dad hat on when he came into the house. It's amazing having my dad have that awesome job. My mother was a model back in the day. I've seen the pictures. My mother's beautiful.
Eleanor Roosevelt never thought that she was attractive. She never thought that she was really sufficiently appealing. And I think her whole life was a response to her effort to get her mother to pay attention to her, to love her, and to love her as much as she loved her brothers.
Barney's Dad was really bad so Barney hatched a plan when his dad said "Eat your peas." Barney shouted no and ran Barney tricked his mean old dad and locked him in the cellar Barney's Mom never found out where he'd gone, Cause Barney didn't tell her. There his dad spent his life eating mice and gruel With every bite for fifty years he was sorry he'd been cruel
He who has ceased to enjoy his friend's superiority has ceased to love him.
The male is just a bundle of conditioned reflexes, is incapable of a mentally free response, is tied to his early conditioning, is determined completely by his past experiences. His earliest experiences are with his mother, and he is throughout his life tied to her. It never becomes completely clear to the male that he is not part of his mother, that he is him and she is her.
Her [Eleanor Roosevelt] father was the love of her life. Her father always made her feel wanted, made her feel loved, where her mother made her feel, you know, unloved, judged harshly, never up to par. And she was her father's favorite, and her mother's unfavorite. So her father was the man that she went to for comfort in her imaginings.
One Dad I know uses what I call Post-It® Note therapy on his children. He leaves sticky Post-It Notes everywhere ...in their lunch box, inside their shoes, on top of their sandwich before he wraps it up. He once went into his daughter's room, looking for his hammer, and on the back of her bedroom door were every Post-It Note he'd ever given her - over 250 in all with simple messages like 'Great job'...'I love you'...or 'You're special to me.' Do you think that girl knew, without a doubt, that her Dad valued her and loved her?
The next day the two sisters went to the ball, and so did Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. The King's son was always by her side, and his pretty speeches to her never ceased.
Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted her his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.
I feel the greatest destroyer of peace today is 'Abortion', because it is a war against the child... A direct killing of the innocent child, 'Murder' by the mother herself... And if we can accept that a mother can kill even her own child, how can we tell other people not to kill one another? How do we persuade a woman not to have an abortion? As always, we must persuade her with love... And we remind ourselves that love means to be willing to give until it hurts.
Mother love has been much maligned. An over mothered boy may go through life expecting each new woman to love him the way his mother did. Her love may make any other love seem inadequate. But an unloved boy would be even more likely to idealize love. I don't think it's possible for a mother or father to love a child too much.
And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out and drank his blood! But, till then - if you don't believe me, you don't know me - til then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair on his head!
Although in my life the level of loss has never reached the extremes it does in 'The Winter People,' I certainly can identify with being both a daughter longing for her mother and being a mother who is almost scared by the intensity of her love for her daughter.
Fifty years ago my Mother stood on this stage accepting this award; She was fortunate enough to have my Dad with her. Fifty years later, I'm fortunate enough to have my Dad with me. I love you, Dad.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!