I know enough to know that no woman should ever marry a man who hated his mother.
I lost my father this past year, and the word feels right because I keep looking for him. As if he were misplaced. As if he could just turn up, like a sock or a set of keys.
Many writers, especially male ones, have told us that it is the decease of the father which opens the prospect of one's own end, and affords an unobstructed view of the undug but awaiting grave that says 'you're next.' Unfilial as this may seem, that was not at all so in my own case. It was only when I watched Alexander [my own son] being born that I knew at once that my own funeral director had very suddenly, but quite unmistakably, stepped onto the stage. I was surprised by how calmly I took this, but also by how reluctant I was to mention it to my male contemporaries.
You can know a thing to death and be for all purposes completely ignorant of it. A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension.
Sons need mothers who feel at peace, comfortable with themselves, content with their lives, and reasonably rested.
The wisdom of God and the knowledge of His spiritual principles are accessible to the sons of God
In peace, sons bury their fathers. In war, fathers bury their sons.
I have two sons. Good sons. They're both businessmen.
I want education for the sons and the daughters of all the extremists, especially the Taliban.
All my sons are named George Foreman. They all know where they came from.
I have a band called Sons of the Lawless.
