Quotes About Home

soul," he'd said one night by a campfire in the Valley of the Kings, "is like a falcon. Despite its loyalty to the falconer, it longs to fly free. When my time comes, let my soul soar into the wind and the sky. Wherever its natural home is meant to be, that's where it will go.

Fire was part and parcel of the family Lar, and the hearth was used as an altar to the Penates, the household gods who looked after the store room (penus) or the interior (penitus) of the home where in the past the floor had covered the dead.

The Lar was always greeted before crossing the threshold (right foot first), and upon returning home (redire ad Lar em suum). He was invoked before one left on a journey or on campaign

You do see me crossing the meadow stiff and dead from the mist? I long for that home, that home I've never had, and without any hope that I'll ever be able to reach it. For such a home, never touched, I carry that longing that will never die, like that meadow dies stiff and dead from the mist. You do see me crossing it, full of dread?

A park like this resembles a large, silent, isolated room. In fact it's always Sunday in a park, by the way, for it's always a bit melancholy, and the melancholy stirs up vivid memories of home, and Sunday is something that only ever existed at home, where you were a child.

In a Christian home, there's something special. It's called grace.

The foundation of a good home is a good marriage. It's simply not possible to have a good home without a good marriage.

Come back, Felicia. Don't leave Frenchman's Bluff. Don't leave the children." He brushed his lips against hers, and his voice lowered. "Don't leave me. You've taught me so much already, but I have so much more to learn." She smiled a little. "What have I taught you, Mr. Murphy?" "More than you could imagine, my love. But it'll take me a lifetime to find the words to tell you.

Tell me who you are. You need not tell me your name. Names have power, even human ones. Tell me where you live and what you do with your living.

She had had insomnia badly when she was fresh from Home.... She had had only occasional bad nights since then. Bad? she thought. Why bad? I rarely feel much the worse the next day, except for a sort of moral irritability that seems to go with the feeling that I ought to have spent all those silent hours asleep.

The sheep, I guess demented with love, didn't object to this at all. Casimir somehow found time to pull up some grass for it, and it lay down and munched its grass and then chewed its cud like hanging out with dogs [...] was something it always did. Maybe it thought other sheep were boring and that it had finally found its spiritual home.

This place felt like home; not her home perhaps, but someone's home, accustomed to shelter and keep and befriend its master.

So I said I'd had a headache all day (which was true) and on second thought I would go home to bed, and I was sorry. I was out the door again not five minutes after I'd gone in. Mel

Life really is nothing more than a journey back home.

My dad said it best when he said, "John, on your deathbed you will never wish you spent more time at the office." So I started spending a little more time at home. I settled into a pretty good, if ordinary, existence.

They were kids. Kids don't care about totalitarianism. For my parents, Prague is picnics on Petrin Hill and homemade knedliky . It's home. They didn't notice the tanks in the backyard, the blood in the streets.

Loretta didn't have much time left for mothering, and once I was old enough to fry my own eggs, she started leaving me home with the cat. Then the cat ran away; she didn't notice. Poor

Born in a house where the door's shut tight Shadowy fingers on the curtains at night Cherry tree blossom head high snow A busy main road where I wasn't to go

By God, if you go killing Unhappiness who'll be left in the houses?

We'll cry, she said. An then we'll stop. Because it's only a house.

A girl phoned me the other day and said, 'Come on over. There's nobody home.' I went over. Nobody was home.

For me a house or an apartment becomes a home when you add one set of four legs, a happy tail, and that indescribable measure of love that we call a dog.

Human beings, in their settled condition, are animated by oikophilia: the love of the oikos, which means not only the home but the people contained in it, and the surrounding settlements that endow that home with lasting contours and an enduring smile.

We should distinguish national loyalty from nationalism. National loyalty involves a love of home and a preparedness to defend it; nationalism is a belligerent ideology, which uses national symbols in order to conscript the people to war.