Parental Forgiveness Quotes

A father may turn his back on his child, brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, wives their husbands. But a mother's love endures through all; in good repute, in bad repute, in the face of the world's condemnation, a mother still loves on, and still hopes that her child may turn from his evil ways, and repent; still she remembers the infant smiles that once filled her bosom with rapture, the merry laugh, the joyful shout of his childhood, the opening promise of his youth; and she can never be brought to think him all unworthy.

The most important thing about being a father is being able to forgive yourself. If you don't forgive yourself, you're not going to forgive your kids, either.

I see my parents as tiny children who need love. I have compassion for my parents’ childhoods. I now know that I chose them because they were perfect for what I had to learn. I forgive them and set them free, and I set myself free.

It was my father who - after, at age 15, I had attempted unsuccessfully to drive the family car using a 'borrowed' key and knocked down a wall of the garage - convinced me over the telephone not to run away from home and who then came home from work not to punish me but rather to console and comfort me.

Now that I'm a father, I've forgiven my parents.

We all know the story of the prodigal son. Confident he knows what is best for him, he recklessly squanders his inheritance. The Occupy Wall Streeters are just that, the prodigal protesters.

In family matters you can get over anything. That's one thing you'll learn as an adult. There's a lot you have to learn which is a lot worse than that. You'd never think of forgiving a friend for some of the things your parents did to you. But with friends it's different. Friends aren't the roll of the dice.

When you love a child, you forgive her before she can even ask. Basically you've already forgiven her for things she hasn't even done yet.

I am that prodigal son who wasted all the portion entrusted to me by my father. But I have not yet fallen at my father's knees. I have not yet begun to put away from me the enticements of my former riotous living.

I once picked up a woman from a garbage dump and she was burning with fever; she was in her last days and her only lament was: My son did this to me. I begged her: You must forgive your son. In a moment of madness, when he was not himself, he did a thing he regrets. Be a mother to him, forgive him. It took me a long time to make her say: I forgive my son. Just before she died in my arms, she was able to say that with a real forgiveness. She was not concerned that she was dying. The breaking of the heart was that her son did not want her. This is something you and I can understand.

The only time you truly become an adult is when you finally forgive your parents for being just as flawed as everyone else.

When women feel they have learned to forgive their mothers - and men, their fathers - all it usually means is that they've decided to allow themselves the same kind of behavior.

How easily a fathers tenderness is recalled, and how quickly a son's offenses vanish at the slightest word of repentance!

Say of him what you please, but I know my child's failings. I do not love him because he is good, but because he is my little child. How should you know how dear he can be when you try to weigh his merits against his faults? When I must punish him he becomes all the more a part of my being. When I cause his tears to come my heart weeps with him. I alone have a right to blame and punish, for he only may chastise who loves.

When I was 13 or 14, my parents had a bit of a windfall so bought a lovely new kitchen, but I burnt it down. I was making cheese on toast when flames escaped from the grill. My father stopped the fire with blind panic and excessive water. I was forgiven, but it put me off cooking for years.