Quotes About Home

My father also likes to slam the front door from time

It was a room-shaped room with furniture-shaped furniture, and dainty curtains.

Most houses were crammed with immovable objects in their proper places, and each object told you what to do - here you ate, here you slept, here you sat. I tried to imagine carpets, wardrobes, pictures, chairs, a sewing machine, in these gaping, smashed-up rooms. I was pleased by how irrelevant, how puny such objects now appeared.

That night he wrote: Did I need you, O feet, In order to reach that distant place? I ask everyone I happen to see there, Have I really arrived? Did I need you, O heart, in order to hate and love? My father always said to me, If you want to make it home alive, hate your enemy.

although the high walls that surrounded his home might conceal the tongues of fire, they could no longer conceal the clouds of smoke.

Yes, I'm too mad to punish you right now. We'll talk about it when we get home. Go brush your teeth, comb your hair, put on dry clothes, and get the guns. We're going to Wal-Mart.

You sure you don't want me to stay? I'll make you coffee and ask you about your day.

And let's be honest, you weren't exactly harmed. I even took you home." "You dumped me on my doorstep. According to my mother, I looked half dead." "Your mother exaggerates. A third dead at most." I stared at him. Wow. Just wow.

Tension fled from me. Tomorrow I would worry about Hugh d'Ambray and Andrea and Roland, but now I was simply happy. Aaahh. Home. My place, my smells, my familiar rug under my feet, my kitchen, my Curran in the kitchen chair . . . Wait a damn minute. "You!

How do we get out of this circle? I asked him. We kill him, he said. Good. Let's kill him and go home. I thought you'd never ask.

I promise to keep my hands, tongue, and other body parts to myself. You risk your life by staying home. It's late and we're both too wiped out to go climbing into the People's lair tonight. What do you risk by coming with me? A huge migraine from being in your company.

Aaahh. Home. My place, my smells, my familiar rug under my feet, my kitchen, my Curran in the kitchen chair . . . Wait a damn minute.

I like home. It's warm and there are books.

This is what it would be like, I realized. We could come home to each other every night. It didn't have to be all blood and gore and fancy dinners. It could also be this, and this felt so good.

I have the same interests as women. Well, apart from football and music, obviously. I've always had as many female friends as male ones. The novels I read as a young man were all by women writers, and when I started writing, I wanted to set my books inside the home.

This is a big deal. My wife and I sat in our home and we watched those young men get slaughtered on the streets of Mogadishu in the absence of a plan. It broke our heart.

Kids - young men find it uncool to be a dad, I think. It's very cool to me... I love being at home with my kids.

I think the rules will change and I think more and more young women are going to decide that having a family and taking care of a home is not a bad choice, but how do we subsidize it - not necessarily European-style socialism. It'll have to be a new more creative, dynamic and local solution.

My mum used Avon Skin So Soft oil when I was younger. She would have a bath, and then the smell used to fill the whole house.

As it happens, I live in Kolkata; my husband Kalyan lives in New Jersey in USA; our elder daughter lives in Cincinnati - also in USA; my younger daughter lives in Mumbai; my sisters live in Delhi.

Five days a week I drive from our home to the Episcopal Cathedral Center of Los Angeles where I have an office, my computer, and a wonderful sense of community - especially nurtured by the presence of several younger gay men and women who are good friends.

I always value my large kitchen because it was better to do everything there, you wash up, you do everything, rather than messing up another room and I pop my typewriter just next to it. So I still write now but I was doing more writing when the children were younger.

I always loved music - it was always in the house - and my younger brother is musical, too.

I grew up in Burbank - but not the Burbank of valet parking and TV studios. In the late 1950s, there was a small apartment complex on Elmwood Avenue that rented mostly to families on welfare. I lived there from age 3 to 11 and again from 14 to 18 with my mother, Shirley, and my younger sister, Toni.