Quotes About Home

because it takes your sleeping self years to catch up to where you really are. Pay attention to your dreams: when you go on a trip, in your dreams you will still be home. Then after you've come home you'll dream of where you were. It's a kind of jet lag of the consciousness.

Eating is a genuine need, continuous from our first day to our last, amounting over time to our most significant statement of what we are made of and what we have chosen to make of our connection to home ground.

Sylvain] told us that in India it's sometimes considered a purification ritual to go home and spend a year eating everything from one place--ideally, even to grow it yourself. I liked this name for what we had done: a purification ritual, to cultivate health and gratitude. It sounds so much better than wackadoo.

I'd give anything to have stayed home. If wishes were horses, like they say. We'd all have different shit to shovel.

Well, that's how thick I am, I never knew how to want what everyone wants. I only thought to look for a home, some place to be taken in. Handing over a crumpled heart, seeing it dropped in the wastepaper basket every time. Here, though. Americans sent love letters in return.

Until that moment I'd always beloved i could still go home and pretend the Congo never happened

quoting Díaz: "Only in her home, like a butterfly in a glass jar, can woman progress to her highest level of decency.

I wanted to go home. Which was nowhere, but it's a feeling you keep having, even after that's no place anymore.

I wanted to go home. Which was nowhere, but it's a feeling you keep having, even after that's no place anymore. Probably if they dropped a bomb and there wasn't any food left on the planet, you'd still keep feeling hungry too.

It's hard to explain how you can miss a place and want it with all your heart, and be utterly sure it will obliterate you the instant you touch down.

Her kitchen chairs were equipales that took you in like a hug, which I needed.

It's one thing to carry your life wherever you go. Another thing to always go looking for it somewhere else.

I wasn't keeping to any road, I was running, forgetting what lay behind and always looking ahead for the perfect home, where trains never wrecked and hearts never broke, where no one you loved ever died.

Most families would sooner forgive you for going to prison than for moving out of Lee County.

And the men, they might be good men but they wouldn't do it. They'd be scared to, I think. Or they don't see no need. These men don't see how we got to do something right now. They think the trees can die and we can just go somewhere else, and as long as we fry up the bacon for them in the same old pan, they think it would be…" she faltered, hugging her elbows in earnest…"that it would be home.

Households that have lost the soul of cooking from their routines may not know what they are missing: the song of a stir-fry sizzle, the small talk of clinking measuring spoons, the yeasty scent of rising dough, the painting of flavors onto a pizza before it slides into the oven. The choreography of many people working in one kitchen is, by itself, a certain definition of family, after people have made their separate ways home to be together.

meant well, and they had all been very good to her. Mrs Thornton was forever telling her to consider The Meadow her home, and she had even turned the little box room at the end of the second-floor landing into a bedroom for her. Mrs Thornton had insisted she keep a few clothes there, and when she had visited Gwen in November she had left behind

it came to feel more a fortress than a home. A fortress of solitude.

I looked over the despondency of the home crowd. Fools! Fools! I thought. Love it! Love the loss as well as the gain. Go home and dig it. Nobody was killed. We saw victory and defeat, and they were both wonderful.

The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.

The falling of the leaves is the truth. The sweeping is the truth. The wind's blowing them away is the truth. The people's anger also is the truth. If your mind is moving, you can't understand the truth. You must first understand that form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Next, no form, no emptiness. Then you will understand that form is form, emptiness is emptiness. Then all these actions are the truth. And then you will find your true home.

Not until Gilgamesh gives up on transcendence can he realize how beautiful his city is; only then, freed from his restless heart, can he fully return to the place he started out from. Suppose that the city is this moment: things as they are, without any meaning added. When the mind gives up on its quest for control, order, and meaning, it finds that it has come home, to reality, where it has always been. What it has -- what it is -- in this very moment is everything it ever wanted.

Our home is a place of fun, relaxation, learning, friends, growth, and order, to develop ourselves into the kinds of people who can contribute to the world.

We feel the key to staying in love is to talk, particularly about feelings. We try to communicate with each other several times every day, even when I'm traveling. It's like coming into home base, which accesses all the happiness, security, and values it represents. Thomas Wolfe was wrong. You can go home again—if your home is a treasured relationship, a precious companionship.