«The father of a daughter, for example, is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, “Daddy, I need to ask you something”, he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan. The butter thinks to itself, “This time I really am going to remain rectangular”, and then it feels very relaxed, and then it smells smoke»
The Book of Guys, Garrison Keilor
No comments:
Post a Comment