Quotes About Home

But we're all looking for the place we belong. And what is home, anyway, but what we cobble together out of our changing selves? Maybe there isn't any it, as my friend said, only the longing.

But we're all looking for the place we belong. And what is home, anyway, but what we cobble together out of our changing selves? Maybe there isn't any it, as my friend said, only the longing

When all work is brought to a standstill, the candles are lit. Just as creation began with the word, Let there be light ! so does the celebration of creation begin with the kindling of lights. It is the woman who ushers in the joy and sets up the most exquisite symbol, light, to dominate the atmosphere of the home.

Here in my heart, my happiness, my house. Here inside the lighted window is my love, my hope, my life. Peace is my companion on the pathway winding to the threshold. Inside this portal dwells new strength in the security, serenity, and radiance of those I love above life itself. Here two will build new dreams--dreams that tomorrow will come true. The world over, these are the thoughts at eventide when footsteps turn ever homeward. In the haven of the hearthside is rest and peace and comfort.

A farce or comedy is best played; a tragedy is best read at home.

Lewes and Eliot between them, someone has said, a little pretentiously but not wrongly, defined the liberalism of the oikos, the Greek word for home, whereas Trollope's is the liberalism of the polis, the city. Lewes and Eliot were more prescient of our own preoccupations: reform had to pass through the living room before it could move to Parliament.

Dans cet océan blanc, où la vie Se recueille; et bientôt l'horizon Se couvrira de fleurs ... Chère maison amie Qui nous protège tous de la froide saison!

Brock Millman, a careful scholar of Britain's internal security measures, makes a convincing case that the government held back men and arms for fear of revolution at home.

Music heard with you at home or in the car or even while strolling didn't always sound as pristine as piano tuners might wish— it was sometimes mixed with voices full of fear and pain, and then that music was more than music, it was our living and our dying.

You can't build homes out of people, but that didn't stop me from letting Noah burrow her way into my heart. The fireplace in our living room crackled and bloomed as her eyelids drifted slowly shut, and I thought that no matter where we were, no matter what we did, home would always be with her

It was easy to avoid his mother because she did not seek his company, make his meals, or do his laundry. His childhood home was a place to lodge until his orders came through.

Any small thing that reminds me of home is a treasure. Sometimes it's small—a bowl of soup that makes me think of my mother—or it's a color. I saw a blue parasol in the crowd this afternoon that reminded me of the lake by the waterwheel in Schilpario. It's the kind of thing that catches you unaware and fills you with a deep longing for everything you once knew. Don't apologize for loving this tree. If I had a tree, I'd feel the same.

You're a drunk, and it's no wonder your husband stays in West Virginia.

I'll never get that far," Enza says. "We came to make money to buy our house. As soon as we do, we'll go home." "We all come here thinking that we'll go home. And then, this becomes home." The

At home there tarries like a lurking snake, Biding its time, a wrath unreconciled, A wily watcher, passionate to slake, In blood, resentment for a murdered child.

In the heart's wild space lies the space of wilderness. What won't one lose, what home one won't give forever!

Everyone carries his address in pocket so that atleast his body will reach home.

Twice I'd come home as they were finishing, and, honestly, I cannot think of a lonelier sound on a Saturday night than one's roommate having a giant orgasm and then making an embarrassed sssh sound, realizing that maybe through her pleasure she'd heard the front door open and close.

Anyone can build a house of wood and bricks, but the Buddha taught us that sort of home is not our real home. It's a home in the world and it follows the ways of the world. Our real home is inner peace.

Although it may be unused, the front door continues to appeal to our sense arrival. Call it the ceremony of coming home.

In the poetry of arrival, the garage door is free verse; the front door can be anything from a rhyming couplet to a sonnet.

Yet though Americans have been driving up to their houses for decades and entering through backdoors, side doors, kitchen doors, and especially doors through garages, architects keep designing houses with ceremonial front doors that are nowhere near any car or driveway.

My dove my little one tonight there will be wine and drunken suitors from the logging camps to pin you down in the outlying lands of sleep where all roads lead back to the home-village and water may be walked on)

Genius is children it lives in far Centaurus and star clusters beyond cold Orion and sometimes visits earth when there is no one home