Quotes About Home

Reporters are like vampires, Curry likes to say. They can't come into your home without your invitation, but once they're there, you won't get them out till they've sucked you dry.

Sometimes he felt like he'd been gone his whole life—in exile, away from the place he was supposed to be, and that, soldier-like, he was pining to be returned. Homesick for a place he'd never been.

I could build my days around charity committees and home decoration and gardening and volunteering, and I don't think there's anything wrong with building a life around those things. Most beautiful, good things are done by women people scorn.

stomach didn't hurt the way it did with my wife—the constant dread of returning to my own home, where I wasn't welcome.

she smoked so much she smelled like tobacco even after a shower, like if she slit her skin, menthol vapor would ooze out. He'd come to like it, it smelled like comfort and home to him, the way warm bread might to someone else.

My parents' cherished heirloom looks ridiculous in the new house. But then all our New York stuff does. Our dignified elephant of a chesterfield with its matching baby ottoman sits in the living room looking stunned, as if it got sleep-darted in its natural environment and woke up in this strange new captivity, surrounded by faux-posh carpet and synthetic wood and unveined walls. I do miss our old place –

The little brown house was my father's house, which was actually blue, but Amy was making another inside joke. I'd always liked our inside jokes the best – they made me feel more connected to Amy than any amount of confessional truth-telling or passionate lovemaking or talk-till-sunrising.

They have no harsh edges with each other, no spiny conflicts, they ride through life like conjoined jellyfish – expanding and contracting instinctively, filling each other's spaces liquidly. Making it look easy, the soul-mate thing. People say children from broken homes have it hard, but the children of charmed marriages have their own particular challenges.

I thought being home might do you hood, but… I forget sometimes parents aren't always good for their kids.

The kind of house that is immediately familiar: a generically grand, unchallenging, new, new, new house that my wife would—and did—detest.

Nick will come home, sweaty and salty and beer-loose from a day at the ballpark, and I'll curl up in his lap, ask him about the game, ask him if his friend Jack had a good time, and he'll say, "Oh, he came down with a case of the dancing monkeys—poor Jennifer was having a 'real stressful week' and really needed him at home.

Once [the calves] were a year old, you started tiptoeing around them, you started looking at them sideways with disgust and embarrassment like a guest in your home who just farted.

Obviously, retired life in Florida didn't offer a whole lot of excitement. Forty below in Fargo! she'd exlcaim. I can't believe it! Why, at home it's probably seventy-five or eighty. It was always seventy-five or eighty at home, even when it was actually a hundred and twelve or in the midst of a hurricane.

As the ship pulled into the slip, the familiar screech of the steam whistle brought forth a flood of memories. A terrible sense of loss came over me, and I thought of Parlange with a stab of longing. I began to wish I had never left this country of magnolias and Spanish moss, of languid days and soft, warm nights. There's something to be said for staying where you were born and placed by God.

O my Brothers! love your Country. Our Country is our home, the home which God has given us, placing therein a numerous family which we love and are loved by, and with which we have a more intimate and quicker communion of feeling and thought than with others; a family which by its concentration upon a given spot, and by the homogeneous nature of its elements, is destined for a special kind of activity.

What is home? My favorite definition is a safe place, a place where one is free from attack, a place where one experiences secure relationships and affirmation. It's a place where people share and understand each other. Its relationships are nurturing. The people in it do not need to be perfect; instead, they need to be honest, loving, supportive, recognizing a common humanity that makes all of us vulnerable.

All the beautiful plants that once had an entire sun porch for themselves in the home she had exchanged thirty years of her life to pay for would now have to fight for light on a crowded windowsill.

They didn't understand the importance of a family, of life. All of those sacrifices to build them houses and they refused to build a history.

If you don't make it home, I'm marrying the butcher. Love Nadine

But here, two thousand miles from home, there was a real shipwreck, a real hope. A choice big enough to change our lives forever.

Mrs. Donnelly lived here with her daughter, Sophie. And, of course, me, now. Sophie

Uzgob: Heh, heh. "Mission akkomplished". A quick detour over Karnage Skwadron's base, an' we 'ead for 'ome. Gimzod: Karnage Skwadron's base, boss? Uzgob: Heh — that's right, Gimzod. We've got a bommer 'ere painted with enemy markings, so who's gonna know it's really us if we bombs the place to zog?!

I say that home is where there is a chair and a glass.

They haven't left us much to believe in, have they?--even disbelief. I can't believe in anything bigger than a home or vaguer than a human being.