A Quote by Ned Vizzini

Dad nods, looks me dead in the eyes; slowly and regretfully, he banishes all the smiling and joking from his face, and for once he's just my dad, watching his son who has fallen so low.
I turned around slowly, and looked up at him. He stiffened and sucked in a shallow breath. After a moment, he touched my cheek. "Such naked pain," he whispered. I turned my face into his palm and closed my eyes. His fingers threaded into my hair, cupped my head, and brushed the brand. It heated at his touch. His hand tightened at the base of my skull and squeezed, and he raised me slowly to my tiptoes. I opened my eyes and it was my turn to inhale sharply. Not human. Oh, no, not this man. "Never show it to me again." His face was cold, hard, his voice colder.
I shake my head. I pick up the rake and start making the dead-leaf pile neater. A blister pops and stains the rake handle like a tear. Dad nods and walks to the Jeep, keys jangling in his fingers. A mockingbird lands on a low oak branch and scolds me. I rake the leaves out of my throat. Me: "Can you buy some seeds? Flower seeds?
When the father dies, he writes, the son becomes his own father and his own son. He looks at is son and sees himself in the face of the boy. He imagines what the boy sees when he looks at him and finds himself becoming his own father. Inexplicably, he is moved by this. It is not just the sight of the boy that moves him, not even the thought of standing inside his father, but what he sees in the boy of his own vanished past. It is a nostalgia for his own life that he feels, perhaps, a memory of his own boyhood as a son to his father.
With my dad passing away, he's always watching me-a big smile on his face, watching every snap on the 50-yard line.
In the middle of all this, as Sean slips out of his jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me and he smiles at me, just a glancing, faint thing before he turns back to Tommy. I'm quite happy for that smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.
You see another side of Draco when he's with his dad. When Draco is with his dad, he doesn't say anything. He keeps his mouth shut. He's sort of bullied by his dad, so he acts very different.
My dad was raised hard. His own dad's mentality was, 'If you're not dead, you can work. If you're not dead, you're all right.'
My dad is my dad. I love him, and I realize that he's as famous as he is. Of course, I don't look at him like everybody else does. Because I know his little faults, I know his weaknesses. Nobody's perfect. But he's my dad. Just like your dad is to you.
Ron Mueck's 'Dead Dad' was fantastic. It was an almost exact replica of his dead dad's body, shrunk to be a third of the size, a very powerful sculpture.
My dad was an incredibly brave man, completely dedicated to his family, with a love for all. If I could be half the dad he was, to my children, then that will be an achievement in itself. He died 14 months exactly to the start of the 2012 Olympics. I hope he will be watching and waving his big union jack in London from somewhere else. I love you so much dad.
My dad had a 'fro, and I didn't. So I wore his hat and it always hit me in the face, so I just turned it around and it just stuck. It wasn't like I was trying to be a tough guy or change the way that baseball is played. It was just that my dad wore a size 7 1/2, and I had a 6 1/4. It was just too big.
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
I try to catch my breath and calm myself down, but it isn't easy. I was dead. I was dead, and then i wasn't, and why? Because of Peter? Peter? I stare at him. He still looks so innocent, despite all that he has done to prove that he is not. His hair lies smooth against his head, shiny and dark, like we didn't just run for a mile at full speed. His round eyes scan the stairwell and then rest on my face. "What?" he says. "Why are you looking at me like that?" " How did you do it?" I say.
The greatest thing I could say about my son, and this is what you always worry about with your kids, that they kinda outgrow their Mom and Dad. But for him, when I see him, when he calls me Dad, and he can still hug me, he's still like my little boy. Even around his friends, he still calls me Dad.
My dad was just a little trailer trash white dude that worked his tail off, didn't have a dad. He started working at 14, didn't get to play sports. He dedicated his life to his kids to let us live our dreams.
My favourite Glastonbury memory is probably my son Rudy watching his dad on stage and understanding what was going on - it was emotional and special.
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