Fighting For Custody Quotes

To achieve the impossible, you must attempt the absurd

It's difficult to make the argument that one female fist inserted into one male ass--or, for that matter, dozens or even hundreds of fists inserted into as many asses--can really make a difference for, say, lesbian mothers fighting for custody of their children. -Katherine Raymond

I see that both her parents are here. I'm pleased that they are, because I'd like to take the opportunity, early in what I fear will be a long and bitter battle, to tell them what I think of what they're doing to their child. I'm not spearking here about their fight for custody of her. I'm speaking here about their decision to get divorced. Let's not fool ourselves about what divorce is. Divorice is a failure of parenting. It does more damage to children than just About anything else that might happen to them in the years before they become adults. It takes from them the only things they hold dear. It breaks up their home. It destroys their sense of family. It removes them from the comfort of having one bed, in one safe, secure, familiar house, where they go to sleep every night of the week. It fills them with sadness and, probably, guilt. They can't help but think that they must somehow be to blame. It sets them up for a world in which nothing is certain and nobody can be trusted.

I don’t have custody. Wayne is just—We’re on good terms about our son. It’s not an issue.” “Got a number where we can reach him?” “Yes, but he’s on a plane right now. He visited for the Fourth. He’s headed back this evening.” “You sure about that? How do you know he boarded the plane?” “I’m sure he had nothing to do with this, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re not fighting over our son. My ex is the most harmless and easygoing man you’ve ever met.” “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve met some pretty easygoing fellas. I know a guy up in Maine who leads a Buddhist-themed therapy group, teaches people about managing their temper and addictions through Transcendental Meditation. The only time this guy ever lost his composure was the day his wife served him with a restraining order. First he lost his Zen, then he lost two bullets in the back of her head. But that Buddhist-themed therapy group he runs sure is popular on his cell block in Shawshank. Lotta guys with anger-management issues in there.

mean, it makes no sense why a fifty-seven-year-old man who has never been accused of a single impropriety in his life, while in the midst of a contentious and very public custody fight, drives up to the hostile environment of the country home belonging to the woman who hates him most, and in a house full of people sympathetic to her, this man, who is thrilled as he has just recently found the serious love of his life, a woman he’d go on to marry and have a family with, would suddenly choose that time and place to become a child molester and abuse his seven-year-old daughter whom

became intent on publicly disgracing his wife by exposing her infidelity and revealing her relationship with a black man. For his part, Walter had always stayed clear of the courts and far away from the law. Years earlier, he had been drawn into a bar fight that resulted in a misdemeanor conviction and a night in jail. It was the first and only time he had ever been in trouble. From that point on, he had no exposure to the criminal justice system. When Walter received a subpoena from Karen Kelly’s husband to testify at a hearing where the Kellys would be fighting over their children’s custody, he knew it was going to cause him serious problems. Unable to consult with his wife, Minnie, who had a better head for these kinds of crises, he nervously went to the courthouse. The lawyer for Kelly’s husband called Walter to the stand. Walter had decided to acknowledge being a “friend” of Karen. Her lawyer objected to the crude questions posed to Walter by the husband’s attorney about the nature of his friendship, sparing him from providing any details, but when he left the courtroom the anger and animosity toward him were palpable. Walter wanted to forget about the whole ordeal, but word

Our Arab mothers and sisters are suffering from injustices like domestic violence, sexual harassment, child marriages and honour killings, some are still fighting for their right to drive or travel without male custody therefore our powerful Arab media was not only expected to broadcast this particular one of a kind Women’s march it should have held panels to dissect the issues being brought forth in order for the Arab world to better understand that gender equality is not an idea that one believes in, it is a planned movement that requires an enormous effort on the part of both men and women to reach.

It was entirely possible that the parents of all the students in the institute were dealing with the most crucial life problems right now. Some might be going through a divorce. Some fighting a grave illness. Somebody might be in the middle of a custody battle, somebody else expecting a child. And all of them would prefer to think that their grown children were getting an education at a decent, albeit provincial, institution of higher learning. And no one would suspect that the success of their endeavors, their health, and even their very lives depended on the academic performance of their forgotten children, abandoned in Torpa.

For some reason, a lot of people back home—not all people—didn’t accept that we were at war. They didn’t accept that war means death, violent death most times. A lot of people, not just politicians, wanted to impose ridiculous fantasies on us, hold us to some standard of behavior that no human being could maintain. I’m not saying war crimes should be committed. I am saying that warriors need to be let loose to fight war without their hands tied behind their backs. According to the ROEs I followed in Iraq, if someone came into my house, shot my wife, my kids, and then threw his gun down, I was supposed to NOT shoot him. I was supposed to take him gently into custody. Would you?

He’s threatening the President of the United States if we take you into custody?” Creek asked, his thoughts apparently in order. “Actually, it would be more like a declaration of war on the US government, if you abduct me.” “He thinks he can take on the entire US military?” Creek asked, incredulous. “General, he’s a lot more powerful than I thought.  He’s way beyond demigod status, more like elder god.  He can appear anywhere, anytime. His claws cut through anything. Who knows what else he can do!” Roma said, looking at me for additional information. I shrugged.  Hell, I didn’t know what he could do.  Elder god? “Christian, you could have avoided capture or escaped, right?” Tanya asked. “Yeah,” I said. “Okwari knows this?” she asked. “Yeah, but see, here’s the thing.  He spent a thousand years as a slave in Hell.  I set him free.  His math is pretty simple.” It was quiet for a moment, except for the personnel trying to clean up the lobby.  “Major Deckert, how are you hooked up in all this?” the general asked, obviously acquainted with the security chief. “I work for Ms. Demidova, General,” he said, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back.  “For what it’s worth, General, in my opinion, I wouldn’t touch Gordon here with a four-mile pole.” “You think that monster could really fight the government?” Creek asked. “Hell, Sir, I was talking about my employer.” He waved in Tanya’s direction. “I didn’t even know that thing existed.  But nothing surprises me with Gordon around.” I gave him my best glare, but it just bounced right off.

Meri, this is Jake, please don’t hang up. I know you don’t want to talk to me. That’s fine, just listen, ’kay?” His voice, all deep and . . . Jake-like, stopped her. She pressed the phone closer to her ear. “I know I only have a minute before this thing cuts me off. Remember when I came to Summer Place that first time? I’d heard about Eva and heard they’d granted custody of the kids to you. I came home to fight you for them, I admit that.” Meridith pressed a fist to her stomach. “I know I should have told you who I was right then, but when you thought I was there for the work, I started thinking how perfect this was, how I could get to see the kids and maybe—okay, I was trying to find reasons why you weren’t the best guardian, but I didn’t know you then. Was just trying to do what was best for the kids and—I was wrong. Meridith? I’m sorry you were caught in the crossfire. I’m sorry I hurt you . . .” There was a long pause. Then a click. The recording followed. “If you’d like to save the message . . .” Meridith returned the phone to the cradle, staring at the extension as if Jake would materialize from it. Part of her wished he would. Part of her wanted to pick up the phone and replay his message—the treacherous, self-sabotaging part that let her feelings and whims whip her around like a leaf in the wind. He’d

Sixty-five million Americans with a criminal record face a total of 45,000 collateral consequences that restrict everything from employment, professional licensing, child custody rights, housing, student aid, voting, and even the ability to visit an incarcerated loved one. Many of these restrictions are permanent, forever preventing those who’ve already served their time from reaching their potential in the workforce, as parents, and as productive citizens.

The American Bar Association documented 45,000 legal sanctions and restrictions imposed upon people with criminal records, a near-impenetrable barrier denying access to employment, student loans, housing, public assistance, custody of your children, the right to vote—in many places, the formerly incarcerated are even blocked from visiting a loved one in prison.

did not bode well. If she was going to tell him she wanted her own bedroom, he’d fight her. If she wanted to visit her parents, he’d go with her. If she was going to try to talk him out of trying to gain custody of Georgie… He’d listen. He wouldn’t make any promises, but he would listen. “A

Don’t ever confuse the two, your life and your work. That’s what I have to say. The second is only a part of the first. . . . There are thousands of people out there with the same degree you have; when you get a job, there will be thousands of people doing what you want to do for a living. But you are the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Your particular life. Your entire life. Not just your life at a desk, or your life on the bus, or in the car, or at the computer.

The women’s cell block we were in was designated for what Israel calls “security prisoners.” Israel classifies all the Palestinians it detains in its custody as “security prisoners,” regardless of their alleged offense or criminal activity. But Palestinians use “political prisoner” to describe those of us detained in relation to the occupation.

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Yifat, who chose to represent herself, didn’t object to the police’s request that she be kept in custody. Instead, she said, “Concerning the risk, I agree with them that anyone who does not toe the line with your apartheid regime, who thinks independently, must necessarily prove a risk to that very regime.” The judge ordered her released anyway.

Settling for a mediocre relationship and spending everyday fighting about trivial and insignificant matters with a woman and to whom you aren’t attracted. Filing for divorce after divorce, losing half of your net worth each time. Sacrificing the custody of your children to your ex and her new partner and losing your dignity. Never experiencing what it feels like to truly be in love with the woman of your dreams and to wake up excited that you get to spend another day with the love of your

It’s probably just some good old-fashioned lust,” Noah said. “Hmm, probably,” George agreed. “Some of the best lust I can remember,” Noah said. “Christ above, this is all wrong.” “We both know what’s wrong with it, son. Let’s take a second to talk about what’s right.” “I can’t think of anything at the moment. Besides the lust, that is. And that she’s incredible. I never thought this would work—I thought it was a charity job, giving her the position to help her get her custody deal worked out. But I couldn’t ask for more. And she makes me laugh. She’s so sassy. And soft. Did I mention she’s soft?” “Did you coerce her? Harass her? Emotionally blackmail her?” George asked. “Of course not. I told her she could sue me.” George chuckled. “Well, Noah, what a sweet-talker you are. No wonder the women are just falling at your feet.” “She depends on me and the job.” “Yes, you’ve explained. Is it likely she’s afraid that if she doesn’t yield, you or the job will vanish?” Noah took a breath. “She is afraid of nothing. Even when she should be.” “Noah, are you courting her?” Dead silence hung in the air. And finally he said, “I’m fighting my libido, and for a while tonight it was winning. I don’t even know if I’m courting—it’s too new. I like her, of course. She intrigues me as much as she annoys me. I admire her, but I admit she’s strange to me. I’ve never known anyone like her. And of course she’s entirely the wrong kind of woman for me, in my circumstances.” “Oh, I don’t know. Jesus hung out with Mary Magdalene. You don’t get more provocative than that.” “Thanks a lot,” Noah grumbled. “I’d better come up there. I was going to wait till you got rid of all the mouse shit, but I’d better come before you create some of your own.” *