Related quotes: English history is all about...

English history is all about men liking their fathers, and American history is all about men hating their fathers and trying to burn down everything they ever did.

quote by Malcolm Bradbury
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

My Fathers Eyes

(by eric clapton)
Sailing down behind the sun,
Waiting for my prince to come.
Praying for the healing rain
To restore my soul again.
Just a toerag on the run.
How did I get here?
What have I done?
When will all my hopes arise?
How will I know him?
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the light begins to shine
And I hear those ancient lullabies.
And as I watch this seedling grow,
Feel my heart start to overflow.
Where do I find the words to say?
How do I teach him?
What do we play?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
Thats when I need them,
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the jagged edge appears
Through the distant clouds of tears.
Im like a bridge that was washed away;
My foundations were made of clay.
As my soul slides down to die.
How could I lose him?
What did I try?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
That he was here with me;
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Better than anything else in our culture, it enables fathers and sons to speak on a level playing field while building up from within a personal history of shared experience - a group history - that may be tapped into at will in years to come.

quote by John Thorn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Daughters go into analysis hating their fathers and come out hating their mothers. They never come out hating themselves.

quote by Laurie Jo Wojcik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Fathers Eyes

I may not be every mothers dream for her little girl,
And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.
But thats all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:
When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,
Shes got her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that find the good in things,
When good is not around;
Eyes that find the source of help,
When help just cant be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
And on that day when we will pay for all the deeds we have done,
Good and bad theyll all be had to see by everyone.
And when youre called to stand and tell just what you saw in me,
More than anything I know, I want your words to be,
She had her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that found the good in things,
When good was not around;
Eyes that found the source of help,
When help would not be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through,
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Black History Month

In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.

But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!

Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...

*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hunters Lullaby

Your fathers gone a-hunting
Hes deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child
Your fathers gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit, spirit cannot pass
Your fathers gone a-hunting
For the beast well never cannot bind
And he leaves a baby sleeping
And his blessings all behind
Your fathers gone a-hunting
And hes lost his lucky charm
And hes lost the guardian heart
That keeps the hunter from the harm
Your fathers gone a-hunting
He asked me to say goodbye
And he warned me not to stop him
I wouldnt, I wouldnt even try

song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

History why do we care

History
a famous person dies
History
a war rages
History
a new invention
History
a building opens
History
what happens if something happens to me
is that history?
no....
So why do we care.....

poem by Andrea Thepoet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fathers Are The Men From Sky

Fathers, the men who are like a pen
We never can see whatever is going on inside them
But suddenly that pen is finished and then?

Fathers, the men who try hard for the pleasure of their family
They just want the less for themselves because of the comfort of their children
Looking forward to spend a day with his family in a place that is hilly

Fathers, the men who justify the wishes of their children to their own wishes
They just live to see the victory of their children and family
But their life sometimes is as short as the golden fishes

Fathers, the men who are noble, they leave their tired face out of the house's door
They came in with a happy face, but we know they are tired from inside
We know that they are sad from the core.

Fathers, the men who listen to the pain of family members
People who are powerful to solve the problems and hard conditions
But no one has the ear to understand them; they just talk with the embers

Fathers,
Warm and kind people who never bother

Fathers,
Who are unique in their way, after them there is no tother

Fathers,
Are the men who are like the kind brothers.

poem by Ellias Anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fathers Son

I am my fathers son
I never know when to shut up
I aint foolin no one
I am my fathers son

He raised me on his own
Love was the last thing he’s shown
But I don’t cry about him yet
I am my fathers clone

It’s 4 a.m. and I’m sneakin down
To the basement to get his last cigarette
Light it in the mirror and see my reflection
Of him, staring back at me
And I say to myself, he aint me

Thank god I’ve got my mama’s eyes
They’re what keep me inside
I aint foolin no one
I’m a mama’s boy
But I’m my fathers son

poem by Robbie Squires
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

If you stop and think about our history, one of the reasons we had an American century and there is an American dream was because at key points in our history we made very bold decisions about making sure that there was very broad, universal access to quality education.

quote by Ken Mehlman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

History is a living horse laughing at a wooden horse. History is a wind blowing where it listeth. History is no sure thing to bet on. History is a box of tricks with a lost key. History is a labyrinth of doors with sliding panels, a book of ciphers with the code in a cave of the Saragossa sea. History says, if it pleases, Excuse me, I beg your pardon, it will never happen again if I can help it.

quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Sins Of Our Fathers

It's a seed planted
By the history of our forefathers
That is in you and I my brothers
Yes! You too my sisters
Are plaqued by the same seed
The same seed that assumed
A place of comfort
In the garden of my father's father's father,
Further and farther from root level
It found its way through the bark to us the branches
And now as we grow leaves
And new buds from us emerge
The seed find its way to our children and so I pray,
Let us children be not held accountable
For the sins of our fathers

We suffer from self doubt and self inadequacy
We ask ourselves the same question
That others before us asked
Who am I to make it,
When in my family no one did?
The question is in you
The question is in me
Yes! You can trace it back to the seed
The same seed that history
Planted in our forefather's garden
To us poverty is congenital
And mediocrity congenial
But how can I believe in myself
When even my father doubt me?
I guess it all begins with me
As a man thinketh, so is he
So hear me father I pray
Let us children be not held accountable
For the sins of our fathers

poem by BiggRich Shuping
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Avoiding History

avoiding history is a family tradition,
draft dodging, missing wars, as far
back as my fathers go, I find
no soldiers, no warriors and also
no lovers. we don't write
in my family, we withdraw
our stories on objection, stop
telling them. we keep secrets.

I keep my own secrets and rarely
tell them, keep my truth
from coming back to hurt me.
I learn slowly but I learn well,
to keep my secrets, avoid history.
I avoided history by protesting war
and by refusing to marry.
I learned late, but I learned well.
your eyes tell your history, your belly,
in its soft geography, hints at mine.
I don't enlist, I avoid being drafted,
my bridges burn behind me.

I read history in the slope of her breasts,
her silence uses me in my telling.
I have many ways to lie,
using a sharp knife to separate
flesh from nerve, bone and tendon.
how many times have I undressed you,
hearing you tell me that I don't care
about anything, until you turn
away from me, turn on me, turn
to stone. I turn you over, exploring
history in the cleft of your ass,
touching with my hands but never
touching you, feeling alone finally,
shedding uniforms and telling stories.

lies return in the secrets I keep, hints
I cover with long explanations.
you come to me, naked, asking questions
and feel betrayed, telling me finally
that I don't matter and never
was real to you. I tell you
I was a soldier, that I fought,
and you lie to me by undressing yourself,
nakedness concealing your aims.

I read history in the curve of your thighs,
my tongue seeking your skin, seeking
you in your skin, tasting
beneath your skin. I find
your secrets, I tell your history
and turn my back to you. in sleep,
you back away, waking,
you dismiss me and I write a secret
history, full of lies and silences.

poem by Jesse Weiner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The History Teacher

Woman!

Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?

Am I History?
Or a part of it?

And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?

Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?

Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.

Are you making me
An emperor?

Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?

And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?

poem by Atef Ayadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Bill and Hillary Clinton are the most investigated couple in American history - now the most thoroughly exonerated couple in American history.

quote by Paul Begala
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

I don't want a Black History Month. Black history is American history.

quote by Morgan Freeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Prologue

Chronicle of The House of Maltus

In the corner of history you were there
watching the broken shadow of the air
cast by the light- from the uncertain future
of the recorded fate clothe of horror

In the corner of history- they
people of strange tongue and of ancient way
pale skinned creatures: silent in the day,
at night they with sharp and penetrating eye

In the corner of history- was a sight
the undying old between day and night
-he was un-earthed master of the tomb- the knight
and, -she was, in the womb of the lord's might

In the corner of history- still is
the great ancestors buried to the chest of bliss
lords and ladies- the royal blood of the fathers
warriors and servants- the welcomed guests

In the corner of history- I am
-the last of them, wise and valiant half man
-hundred years and more; I am the to and the from
-their birth, their death in my heart precious so warm

In the corner of history- the face and the name
of the creature cursed by them
man they are all the same
consumed by their malice they named us villain

In the corner of history- I, vanished
left the cruel world created by mans' heart
doomed by their own malice, their hatred
to my own kind- the sons and daughters of god

In the corner of history- I found
at last the heaven for us, above the sand
were memories from the past un-harmed
by the filthy beast: man, and their kind

Note:
Book the first, The Prologue

From the tradition of the “vamperas”- the story of Maltus.
(vamperas- equivalent to vampire; Maltus- character
appeared in the author's dream)

poem by Jordan Legaspi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Our History

If my history would end here
I know
your history will begin.

Our history
happens not at the same time
how I wish I could see
what history you will make.