Papa always makes it clear that he would like to know me as much more rational and lucid than the girls and women he gets to know during his analytic hours.
Just take me with you. Please. I cant. Please, Papa. I cant. I cant hold my son dead in my arms. I thought I could but I cant.
When we have done our very, very best, papa, and that is not enough, then I think the right time must have come for asking help of others.
It’s just a mild disagreement, Papa. Remi has this whole need to breathe in and out, which annoys me. If he would just stop breathing, I’d be fine. (Aimee)
When you do good music, it moves over from generation to generation. Like Bob Marley. Like Papa Michigan. Jimmy Cliff.
In my case, a papadaddy is a father. My paternal grandfather was called Papa by my father who was called Daddy by me.
You got to take the crookeds with the straights. That's what Papa used to say.
Possibly the only good to come out of these nightmares was that it brought Hans Hubermann, her new papa, into the room, to soothe her, to love her. He came every night and sat with her. The first couple of times, he simply stayed - a stranger to kill the aloneness. A few nights after that, he whispered, "Shhh, I'm here, it's all right. " After three weeks he held her. Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. The girl knew from the outset that Hans Hubermann would always appear midscream, and he would not leave. (36)
Every bit of land is a Holy land, and every drop of water is Holy water, and every single child is a son or a daughter of the one Earth mama, and the one Earth papa.
No one can obtain from the Pope a dispensation for never dying. [Lat. , Nemo impetrare potest a papa bullam numquam moriendi. ]
My self. . . is a dramatic ensemble. Here a prophetic ancestor makes his appearance. Here a brutal hero shouts. Here an alcoholic bon vivant argues with a learned professor. Here a lyric muse, chronically love-struck, raises her eyes to heaven. Her papa steps forward, uttering pedantic protests. Here the indulgent uncle intercedes. Here the aunt babbles gossip. Here the maid giggles lasciviously. And I look upon it all with amazement, the sharpened pen in my left hand.
Goodbye, Papa, you saved me. You taught me to read. No one can play like you. I'll never drink champagne. No one can play like you. " -Liesel
My first words was thug for life and papa pass the mack
She told Papa about it. He made her stick out her tongue and he felt her wrist. He shook his head sadly and said, "You have a bad case, a very bad case. " "Of what?" "Growing up.
There's nothing like a love for our children. I love being a papa, and that's the truth.
Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.
Funkers are people who dig the funk; Little funkers, Big funkers, Old funkers, Young funkers, Foxy funkers, Mother funkers, Papa funkers.
When your mama was the geek, my dreamlets," Papa would say, "she made the nipping off of noggins such a crystal mystery that the hens themselves yearned toward her, waltzing around her, hypnotized with longing.
Papa Roach are not just going to take tours just to take tours.
Why did Mama say that? Had Papa made her angry again? He made her angry a lot. Gran said it was on account of his "hores. " One time Celia asked Nurse what a hore was, and Nurse paddled her and told her that was a bad word. Then why did Papa have them?