My father was a wildfire. Really. Nobody could save him from anything. His family turned away from him, and he broke up with his first wife. It just happened to be that when he was going to get back up on his feet, my mother was there.
When I was four or five, my father had a general store in Winchester and I don't think the farmers could ever leave on Saturday afternoon until I had been placed up on the counter to sing.
When I was eight, my parents saved up to send me to private school, but I found it so tough that I often escaped through the back fence to walk the four miles to my father's office in Windsor. I only lasted a few terms, but it didn't curb my ambition.
My father was the president of the Hearst Corporation, and my parents were close friends of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, and they all had pugs.
My mother went to university, my father didn't. But they are very educated, very wise people. My father went to the military, so he's worldly.
The wisest man may be a blind father.
Salvation lies in imitating Christ, in other words, in imitating the 'withdrawal relationship' that links him with his Father... To listen to the Father's silence is to abandon oneself to his withdrawal, to conform to it.
My aunty says I'm the double of my father. He was a workaholic, which I've definitely inherited. And like me, he could be the life and soul of the party, but also quite withdrawn.
As the father of five children, with three daughters, I'm pretty fired up to have the first woman president of the United States.
It's just a wonderful feeling to be a father and to have a kid.
My parents had a wonderful marriage, but it was a very dependent relationship. My mother was entirely dependent on my father because that's how it was in those days.
I was brought up in a very ordinary family, in fact, a worker's family. Both my father and mother were ordinary citizens.
The course that will restore to the workmen a father's duties and responsibilities, between which and themselves the state has now stepped, is for them to reject all forced contributions from others, and to do their own work through their own voluntary combinations.
My father is an economist who specialized in foreign food policy, and my mother worked for AID, a branch of the State Department, so food in regards to world affairs was talked about a lot.
My father fought in World War II at the Battle of the Bulge.
People sometimes approach me tentatively or suspiciously because of my father's reputation as a world-class negotiator, as if they think I'm about to take advantage of them. As if I know something I'm not letting on.
I have been wrathful all my life, angry against my father and all others. My wrath must end. All my images now are of heaven.
I'm the father of two boys and two girls, so I'm more an emotional wreck than a mushball.
Whether your father, husband, son, or brother has been on the front lines, driving a computer or programming a tank, wielding a gun or a wrench, they are a team. No one moves, no one wins without everyone doing their job.
Mugabe's resignation fascinates because the fall of tyrants is always a family story, decline of the father, writ large. What a strange creature he is.