To My Dad,
“When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could
hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.”
-Mark Twain“My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, “You’re tearing up the grass.”
“We’re not raising grass,” Dad would reply, “We’re raising boys.”
-Harmon Killibrew“Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner or later…
That the man before him was not an aging father but a boy, a boy much like himself, a boy who grew up and had a child of his own and, as best he could, out of a sense of duty and perhaps love, adopted a role called Being a Father so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important: a protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic possibilities of life.”
-Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities
That last one gets to me a bit.
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