Quotes About Home

Anything your father said. People he might have mentioned." "Amos," I blurted out, just to see his reaction. "He met a man named Amos." Inspector Williams sighed. "Sadie, he couldn't have done. Surely you know that. We spoke with Amos not one hour ago, on the phone from his home in New York." "He isn't in New York!" I insisted. "He's right—" I glanced out the window and Amos was gone. Bloody typical.

I smelled barbecue before I reached the house, and that made me madder than ever, because I really love barbecue.

I guess no true Bostonian would trust a place that was sunny and pleasant all the time. But a gritty, perpetually cold and gloomy neighborhood? Throw in a couple of Dunkin' Donuts locations, and I'm right at home.

I asked my new friend, "Were you born here?" He thought about it, paused, and then said, "No, 'twas 'bout five miles down the road." Later, I asked him, "Have you lived here all your life?" He winked and said, "Not yet.

If you have a relationship with God through Jesus, you don't need to fear death. It is the door to eternity. It will be the last hour of your time on earth, but it won't be the last of you. Rather than being the end of your life, it will be your birthday into eternal life. The Bible says, "This world is not our home; we are looking forward to our everlasting home in heaven." 9

When life gets tough, when you're overwhelmed with doubt, or when you wonder if living for Christ is worth the effort, remember that you are not home yet. At death you won't leave home — you'll go home.

Louise's possessions looked like a refugee's beside his, a refugee who spent a lot of time in IKEA.

Oh, man, 'the nursery,' " Dominic said, "what a hell-hole. If I had kids I'd give them the nicest room in the house." "You do have kids," his kid said. "Oh, yeah, well, right, you know what I mean.

Home was an idea, and like Arcadia it was lost in the past. She

And the English soul, if it resided anywhere, was surely in some unheroic back garden—a patch of lawn, a bed of roses, a row of runner beans.

Morris says that you should have nothing in your house that you don't know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful," she

Powerful men needed their women to be unchallenging, the home should not be an arena for intellectual debate.

Home... wasn't Egerton Gardens, wasn't even Fox Corner. Home was an idea, and like Arcadia it was lost in the past.

The father washes his hands of his son, so the boy is forced to set out alone to try and find fear, hoping that by doing so he'll fit in, that finally he'll belong. That maybe once he can shudder, he'll be able to go home. That's a line that always got me, that part about the shudder and going home.

We've a bond, haven't we, Goaty? Fellow victims. Partners in survival. Though God knows what my mum will say If I try and take him home...

The flowers were like new acquaintances; she approached them in a familiar spirit, and made herself at home among them.

My mother was a cook of the plain, simple, homey variety, which was perfect for our undeveloped palates. She wasn't a puritan or a health nut, but she greatly cared what we ate and took pains to serve us good meals every night. Sometimes, when she dished up one of her typical home-cooked dinners, and we told her how good it was and asked for seconds, she would say half joking, "Aw, it's nothing but a blue plate special!

Once, oh marvelous once, there was a rabbit who found his way home.

Bink, said Gollie, I must inform you that you are giving a home to a truly unremarkable fish. I love him said Bink.

There was, truly no place for him. The home of his childhood was long gone, and it had never been his home, even when he was a child. His mother had said to him, Do not anger your father. Try to do as he says. Try to be who he wants you to be. But he had not known how to do that, had he? He still did not know how to do that. He knew, only, how to be himself. And shouldn't home be the place where you are allowed to be yourself, loved as yourself?

We shall all, in the end, be led to where we belong, said the blackbird. We shall all, in the end, find our way home, intoned the bird.

And shouldn't home be the place where you are allowed to be yourself, loved as yourself?

Three semis drove past us. One was painted with a picture of a cow standing in a field of green grass. I was jealous of that cow because she was at home and I was not. It seemed like a very sad thing to be jealous of a fake cow on the side of a truck.

And then he flew home and cooked his mother and brothers a resplendent turkey dinner, with sausage stuffing, maple-glazed sweet potatoes, and a chutney made with peaches, pears, pineapple, and a dash of curry.