Quotes About Home

her father had built from ax-hewn planks thatched with bamboo and grass. The floor was dirt, but it was clean. Her mother, Foua, sprinkled it regularly with

You no doubt want to hear what I think of being in hiding. Well, all I can say is that I don't really know yet. I don't think I'll ever feel at home in this house, but that doesn't mean I hate it. It's more like being on vacation in some strange pension. Kind of an odd way to look at life in hiding, but that's how things are. The Annex is an ideal place to hide in.

We, too, shall have to move on again with our little bundles, and leave this beautiful country, which offered us such warm welcome and which now turns it back on us. I love Holland, I who, having no native country, had hoped that it might become my fatherland, and I still hope it will!

Tengo a mis parientes, a mis tías, que son muy buenas, y un buen hogar. Al parecer no me falta nada, salgo la amiga del alma.

Helpless, heartbroken and lonely, Katrien sank into the grass at the side of the road and wept—wept until she had no more tears. Darkness had already set in by the time she picked up the overturned basket and headed home. From somewhere in the grass came the gleam of a silver thimble…

For twenty years I have ached to go back home, when there was nobody there to whom I could return.

When you love something like reading—or drawing or music or nature—it surrounds you with a sense of connection to something great. If you are lucky enough to know this, then your search for meaning involves whatever that Something is. It's an alchemical blend of affinity and focus that takes us to a place within that feels as close as we ever get to "home.

Marianne Moore put it, "The world's an orphan's home.

When you love something like reading - or drawing or music or nature - it surrounds you with a sense of connection to something great. If you are lucky enough to know this, then your search for meaning involves whatever that Something is. It's an alchemical blend of affinity and focus that takes us to a place within that feels as close as we ever get to home. It's like pulling into our own train station after a long trip - joy, relief, a pleasant exhaustion.

Augustine's insight that to search for God is to have found God is deeply profound, because the belief we hold in the existence of another world opens space within us, and around us, which creates a more radiant reality. A radiance is inside us, just as it is visible outside us, and to seek it is maybe to catch a glimpse from time to time of a light within, of a candle at the window of our heart, of a home somewhere inside.

So you—I—stuck to the family plan for a long time, because your success made everyone else so happy, even if you made yourself frantic and half dead trying to achieve it. You couldn't win at this game, and you couldn't stop trying. At least it was a home to return to, no matter how erratic, which is better than no home.

We belong where love finds us.

There is a fear of immorality and disease in our midst. We don't like to be reminded of such things so close to home. We feel guilty that it happens while we are perfectly well and comfortable ourselves. Africa is too far away to be our fault.

No hay nadie en el mundo que tenga suficiente dinero para comprar tu vida, tu honradez, tu hogar, tus amigos! Tu sueño por la noche... —No

In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume.

So we reach into the raging chaos, and we cling to it, and we tell ourselves it has meaning, and that the world is good, and we are not evil, and we will all go home in the end.

I am an unwilling devil. I cry like some vagrant child. I want to go home.

But during all these years I had a vague but persistent desire to return to New Orleans. I never forgot New Orleans. And when we were in tropical places and places of those flowers and trees that grow in Louisiana, I would think of it acutely and I would feel for my home the only glimmer of desire I felt for anything outside my endless pursuit of art.

Maybe we do go home, finally.

Write it in your histories. Describe my house as you saw it, full of paintings and lamps, full of music and laughter, full of gaeity and warmth.

Quinn,' she said, 'we live in houses that were built by people's dreams, and we have to accept that. We have to revere the dream and realize that someday the house will go to others after us. These houses are personalities in our lives. They have their roles to play.

I wanted my house, my children, Amadeo, Bianca. I wanted my Venice. I wanted my mortal world.

Our ancestral home is Blackwood Manor, an august if not overblown house in the grandest Greek Revival Style, replete with enormous and dizzying Corinthian columns, an immense structure on high ground.

All through my long life," I said, "I have seen such ruin. Magnificent cities are created by men and women with such dreams. Then there come the riders of the North or the East and they trample and destroy the magnificence; all that men and women have created is no more. Fear and misery follow this destruction. And nowhere is it more visible than in the ruins of your home-Kiev Rus.