Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope. ~Bill Cosby
Spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with you at bat. Then fold second base down to home and set the baby on the pitcher's mound. Put first base and third together, bring up home plate and pin the three together. Of course, in case of rain, you gotta call the game and start all over again. ~Jimmy Piersal, on how to diaper a baby, 1968
Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected. ~Red Buttons
There is still no cure for the common birthday. ~John Glenn
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
Youth would be an ideal state if it came a little later in life. ~Herbert Asquith
Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time. ~Jean Paul Richter
We advance in years somewhat in the manner of an invading army in a barren land; the age that we have reached, as the saying goes, we but hold with an outpost, and still keep open communications with the extreme rear and first beginnings of the march. ~Robert Louis Stevenson, "Virginibus Puerisque II," Virginibus Puerisque, 1881
Because time itself is like a spiral, something special happens on your birthday each year: The same energy that God invested in you at birth is present once again. ~Menachem Mendel Schneerson
I still have a full deck; I just shuffle slower now. ~Author Unknown
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
He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. ~Clarence Budington Kelland
Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father! ~Lydia M. Child, Philothea: A Romance, 1836
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