Inflation is when you pay fifteen dollars for the ten-dollar haircut you used to get for five dollars when you had hair. ~Sam Ewing
Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected. ~Red Buttons
Henry James once defined life as that predicament which precedes death, and certainly nobody owes you a debt of honor or gratitude for getting him into that predicament. But a child does owe his father a debt, if Dad, having gotten him into this peck of trouble, takes off his coat and buckles down to the job of showing his son how best to crash through it. ~Clarence Budington Kelland
Middle age is having a choice between two temptations and choosing the one that'll get you home earlier. ~Dan Bennett
Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes. ~Gloria Naylor
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 Killebrew
Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician. ~Author Unknown
Middle age is the time when a man is always thinking that in a week or two he will feel as good as ever. ~Don Marquis
There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. ~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994
In childhood, we yearn to be grown-ups. In old age, we yearn to be kids. It just seems that all would be wonderful if we didn't have to celebrate our birthdays in chronological order. ~Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com
A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age. ~Robert Frost
Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected. ~Red Buttons
There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. ~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994
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