My father, Dines Pontoppidan, belonged to an old family of clergymen and was himself a minister.

My father was a minister, so I was a P.K., a preacher's kid.

Emperor? You old fake! / You're no Emperor. You're just an onion. / Now then, little Peer, I'm going to peel you.

My father was an Episcopalian minister, and I've always been comforted by the power of prayer.

My father was often angry when I was most like him.

He could hardly breathe at the though of his son and Quintana in Sorel with no one to protect them.