Quotes About Home

Up in this air you breathed easily, drawing in a vital assurance and lightness of heart. In the highlands you woke up in the morning and thought: Here I am, where I ought to be.

Hospitality, however, seeks to minister. It says, "This home is not mine. It is truly a gift from my Master. I am His servant and I use it as He desires." Hospitality does not try to impress, but to serve.

Home is the place we should return to with eager spirits, the journey's end we reach with sighs of contentment.

I know what I want. A full belly, a contented heart, and a place in this world.

Just as a river by night shines with the reflected light of the moon, so too do you shine with the light of your family, your people, and your God. So you are never far from home, never alone, wherever you go.

If there is room in your heart, you'll make room in your home.

As Jack began to climb the stairs, Fiona looked up at her new home. Five stories of stately mansion rose above her head. Heavy molding around the large windows and doors bespoke a quality and craftsmanship that was obvious even in the dim night. "Good God! It's massive!" Jack paused with his foot on the last step. "I do wish you'd keep those comments until we are in bed, love. I would appreciate them all the more there.

One of the benefits of travelling is that you learn what you truly value when you are home. And little things that you might take for granted are sweeter, softer, larger, and infinitely better for the experience of not having them.

When I rode the train west, I went looking for something, but I didn't see anything wonderful. I didn't see anything better than what I already had. Home.

the morning with the whole day waiting, full of promise, the night of quiet, of no expectations, of rest. And the certainty of home, the one I live in, and the one that lives in me.

And she knows how to come into a home and not step on the toes of a ghost.

Home is the place you return to when you have finally lost your soul. Home is the place where life is born, not the place of your birth, but the place where you seek rebirth. When you no longer have to remember which tale of your own past is true and which is an invention, when you know that you are an invention, then is the time to seek out your home. Perhaps only when you have come to understand that can you finally reach home.

Home, Ms. Lane?" His deep voice was gently amused. "I have to call it something," I said morosely. "They say home is where the heart is. I think mine's satin-lined and six feet under.

I hope when I'm ninety-five the only things I want are free: love, family, a good home-cooked meal.

Och lass, doona you know? Your heart is my home..

I realized I was still caught between two worlds. I missed the idealism and even the redundancy of home, the little routines of my father's, like throwing his keys in the air, and the way my mom's smile could make the whole world forget its worries...

For the first time, I feel just as sorry for my ma as for my dad. Everybody wants to go home, and no one can agree on where that is anymore.

He was intelligent and healthy, but decent to a point that crippled him as a master of his home or an accumulator of wealth. Madelaine had once characterized him as standing on the edge of the mainstream of life, smiling and saying, "Pardon me," "After you,"and "No, thank you.

London. For some reason the word didn't seem to have the magic, warm, sound of home that it had always had.

But there is room now in my heart for more memories, carved by a letting go that I could find only by coming home to a place I'd never been.

I've always thought that old clothes are a lot like old houses; they bring the past and present together.

My childhood had been vanishing bit by bit while I'd been living in New York, trying to pretend it had never existed. Maybe that was what the old saying – that a person can never really go home again – was all about. You couldn't go home because even though home might still be there in brick and mortar, everything else would be unrecognizable.

Didn't it belong to her just a little bit, not in a material way but in the way a house always belonged to all those who had lived and loved and suffered in it? As if it had kept behind a small part of your soul.

I understand the pull of this place, how you can't leave no matter how hard you want to. When your blood runs with salt water, you might as well drop anchor and get comfortable.