A Quote by Manolo Blahnik

Papa died when he was 77. — © Manolo Blahnik
Papa died when he was 77.

Quote Topics

Papa didn't cuss, he didn't raise a whole lot of fuss. But when we did wrong, Papa beat the hell out of us.
My father died beside trees on iron rails... He had 77 dollars on him at the time, and we used the money for Thai takeout because, as my friend Julie says about times like this, 'You still have to eat.'
He had Parkinson's disease for about, I'd say diagnosed for about 11 of the last years of his life. And treatment was not as good as it is now, of course. We're still going along and he died in '85 and he was 77.
Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.
All of the sudden," he said, "I feel different-- not like I ever felt before. Even when Papa died I didn't feel this way. In two days everything is changed. I'm lonely and I don't now what I'm lonely for
My mother, along with Papa's other eventual wives - Pauline, Marty Gelhorn, Mary Welch - they all, at one time or another, no matter how angry they were at him at the moment, said, 'Look, Papa is special. He writes so beautifully. We have to let this go on.'
Caddies are a breed of their own. If you shoot 66, they say, "Man, we shot 66!" But go out and shoot 77, and they say "Hell, he shot 77!"
Papa is a very chilled out person. He was very supportive from the beginning. I think Papa helped ease Mama into the idea of me acting. He told her that she seems passionate about it. He was very cool about it.
I always say to people, 'You know, if Romeo and Juliet got married, nobody would care about them.' Imagine Romeo and Juliet, six kids yelling, 'Mama, Mama, Papa, Papa!'
On Good Friday Jesus died But rose again at Eastertide.....Lord, teach us to understand that your Son died to save us not from suffering but from ourselves, not from injustice...but from being unjust. He died that we might live - but live as he lives, by dying as he died who died to himself.
You must learn to respect," Papa said. But I do not respect her," I said. Papa paused for a moment, and patted my leg. "Then you must learn to hide your disrespect.
My dad died, and my grandfather died, and my great-grandfather died. And the guy before him, I don't know. Probably died.
There was a day when I died; died to self, my opinions, preferences, tastes and will; died to the world, its approval or censure; died to the approval or blame even of my brethren or friends; and since then I have studied only to show myself approved unto God.
Only look to Jesus. He died for you, died in your place, died under the frowns of heaven, that we might die under its smile.
Papa loved Mama, Mama loved men, Mama's in the graveyard, Papa's in the pen.
My father died five days before I returned to New York. He was only fifty-three years old. My parents and my father's doctor had all decided it was wiser for me to go to South America than to stay home and see Papa waste away. For a long time, I felt an enormous sense of guilt about having left my father's side when he was so sick.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!