Quotes About Home

Nothing anywhere could be better than being at home with the home folks, she was sure.

The snug log house looked just as it always had. It did not seem to know they were going away.

She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.

So they all went away from the little log house. The shutters were over the windows, so the little house could not see them go. It stayed there inside the log fence, behind the two big oak trees that in the summertime had made green roofs for Mary and Laura to play under. And that was the last of the little house

San Francisco, September 13, 1915 Believe me, there is no place like the country to live, and I have not heard of anything so far that would lead me to give up Rocky Ridge for any other place.

56. They all flew away into the west. At this point in the novel Pa delivers this haunting line, 'I would like some one to tell me how they all knew at once that it was time to go, and how they knew which way was west and their ancestral home. Prof. Lockwood commented, 'Locusts were then-- and still are-- mysterious creatures, whose sudden, irruptions are their defining attribute.

This is now." She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.

She could not think what it would be to teach school twelve miles away from home, along among strangers. The less she thought of it the better, for she must go, and she must meet whatever happened as it came. Now Mary can have everting she needs, and she can come home this next summer, she said. Oh, Pa, do you think I - I can teach school? I do, Laura, said Pa. I am sure of it.

Mid pleasures and places though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

They heard the voices howling and shrieking in the wind, and the house creaking, and the snow swishing. "This will never do!" said Ma. "Let's play bean-porridge hot! Mary, you and Laura play it together, and, Carrie, you hold up your hands. We'll do it faster than Mary and Laura can!" So they all played bean-porridge hot, faster and faster until they could not say the rhymes, for laughing.

At Cornell she had discovered that domesticity had a brain; here, in the beloved, safe home that was entirely hers, she was learning that it had a heart.

It was the early 1960s, and the best-known names in home cooking—Fannie Farmer, Betty Crocker, Irma Rombauer, Dione Lucas—projected a warm and cozy domestic image that was the opposite of what she and David were after.

Fortunately, being mindful of family time—making a commitment to be there physically and mentally and enjoy life while doing so—makes memories possible. We control a lot less about our children's outcomes in life than we think. They are their own people. But one thing parents do shape is whether kids remember their childhoods as happy. Creating a happy home is a conscious choice, as is creating a happy marriage.

Where is home? Home is where the heart can laugh without shyness. Home is where the heart's tears can dry at their own pace.

If life—and my job—have taught me anything, it should be that every family is a mille-feuille of pathos and neuroses, sins and secrets. Someday I'll stop assuming that everyone except me grew up feeling at home in their homes.

Love mattered, in the end. A house without love would always fall, maybe not today or tomorrow, but in the end without love nothing could endure.

If the eyes are the window to the soul, then Edward's in trouble 'cause no one is home.

Richard has informed me he is shopping for his white picket fence. I'm happy behind my black wrought iron fence. The one with the pointy spikes on top. White never really was my color.

His parting shot to me had been, I don't want to love someone who is more at home with the monsters than I am. What do you say to that? What can you say? Damned if I know. They say love conquers everything. They lie.

Yeah, I'm just a medical marvel, and I'm taking my marvelous ass home.

He can look harmless if he wants to. He is the consummate actor, but unless he works at it, his eyes give him away. If the eyes are the mirror to the soul, then Edward's in trouble because no one is home. He

Home wasn't a place, or a building, or a tropical night full of flowers and rain. Love made home not out of boards and walls and furniture, but of hands to hold, and smiles to share, and the warmth of that body cuddled around you in the dark. I swam in the darkness of the ocean on a raft of hands, and bodies, and giving a damn what happened to them all.

It was more fun to hunt monsters before we had someone to go home to,' I said. The