Humans are born, weak and helpless. We're cursed with natural predators called parents. That's why the grandma was created. To protect us. Oh sure, she's old and frail. But she can kick your dad's ass.
From quite early on, I had this idea of compartmentalized identities - 'this is how you are when you are with your mum, and this is how you are when you are with your dad' - so it seemed like I could never absolutely be myself. And the image of myself as compromised and inconsistent made me want to withdraw from the world even further. I had a sense of formulating a paper-mache version of myself to send out in the world, while I sat controlling it remotely from some smug suburban barracks.
I didn’t want to know that the monster that lived under your bed when you were a kid not only really is there but used to have a few beers with your dad.
Did you work for the money to buy those earrings? Or did your Daddy buy those for you?
One of the scary things is that, when you're a kid, you look at your dad as the man who has no fear. When you're an adult, you realize your father had fear, and that you have it, too.
I can be a rock star with a television show and still have a self-esteem problem. So it's nice to have your dad go, 'Hey Melissa, I'm proud of you - you're doing good.'
You get to a certain age and you can't judge yourself on your dad or your parents.
If you do something for the first time, you will always remember it. If your Dad has something to do with it, you write about it.
When we passed a Catholic church, I recalled, he said, "You think your dad's a good chemist? They're turning soda crackers into meat in there. Can your dad do that?
When you're growing up, your dad is your superhero. Once you've let yourself fall that in love with someone, once you put him on such a high pedestal and he lets you down, you never want to experience that pain again.
Your dad didn't die, so I won't be able to explain it to you.
You will find that if you really try to be a father, your child will meet you halfway.
When your dad's a cop, calling 911 is really just like calling Dad at work.
After a long time, I cleared my throat. “So anyway, when we get to Nevada...I think we should rethink your dad’s rule.” Alex glanced down at me and smiled – the first real smile I’d seen on his face in a long time. “You know what? It’s already been rethought and completely ditched,” he said. And he wrapped his arms around me and we stood looking up at the mountains, with the rising rays of the sun lighting them from the east.
But Hale didn't follow. For a second he just stood and stared out over his empire. It was like he was lost in a dream when he said, "So, your dad broke into the patent office." "Yep," Kat told him. "How many goats am I going to owe him for that?" "More than you've got, big guy. Way more than you've got.
Oh, I forgot to tell you," Cookie said. "Amber wants your dad to get a teriyaki machine so she can sing for all the lonely barflies." "I'm a good singer, mom." Only a twelve-year-old could make the word mom sound blasphemous. I leaned into Cookie, "Does she know its not called--?" "No," she whispered. "Are you gonna tell her?" "No. It's much funnier this way.
And that's when I realized that there's really two ways people cry. You cry when you're sorry for yourself, and then you cry when you are really sad. The tears you cry for yourself? Those are kid tears. You're crying because you want somebody to help you or pick you up. Your mom, your dad, the old lady next door... anyone.
His mom lived in Long Island for ten years or so. God rest her soul. And, although, she's... wait... your mom's still... your mom's still alive. Your dad passed. God bless her soul.
The script changed so much over seven months and just had loads and loads of re-writes. I tried to tailor things to what I was interested in, like the relationship with the dad changed quite a lot because I thought one of the things when you're a young guy one of your biggest fears is this irrational fear of walking in your dad's footsteps and living the same life as him. I thought, even if your dad's a good guy, you just want to assert your independence on everything and it causes these irrational sort of rages.
So, your dad's hot." "Thanks. He was that way when I met him, so I can't really take credit.
Remember when you're young and you think your dad is Superman? And then you grow up and realized he's just a drunk who wears a cape.
Sorry to hear about your Dad." He shrugged. "He was seventy, and we always told him fast food would kill him." "Heart attack?" "He was hit by a Pizza Express truck.
That wasn't your mom in you—that was your dad.
You be as angry as you need to be,” she said. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Not your grandma, not your dad, no one. And if you need to break things, then by God, you break them good and hard.
You didn't see him watching you dance with your dad. His eyes got all shiny. I thought he was going to cry. And on the way up here, in the elevator, he tried to play it off, but I could totally tell he was nervous.
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