Quotes About Home

If you are as happy, my dear sir, on entering this house as I am in leaving it and returning home, you are the happiest man in the country.

Analogies, it is true, decide nothing, but they can make one feel more at home.

The more I see of other countries the more I love my own.

Like plowing, housework makes the ground ready for the germination of family life. The kids will not invite a teacher home if beer cans litter the living room. The family isn't likely to have breakfast together if somebody didn't remember to buy eggs, milk, or muffins. Housework maintains an orderly setting in which family life can flourish.

Houses are the abiding joys; they are the most emotion-stirring of all things. An automobile is regarded with fond affection, a typewriter becomes an inseparable companion, clothes can stir sentimentality, and the bit of bric-a-brac is a toy one would weep to see torn away — but houses are real, deep, emotional things.

Any home can be a castle when the king and the queen are in love.

I am thankful for a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning and gutters that need fixing because it means I have a home.

A mountaineer's house, before being his home and the home of his family, is the home of God and of guests.

My streets, my cistern. My old house. Its beams, floorboards and staircase creaked slightly, almost imperceptibly, with a dry, uniform, almost constant cracking sound. What's wrong? Where does it hurt? It seemed to be complaining of aches in its bones, in its centuries-old joints.

A writer is without honor only in his or her own home, among his or her own family.

DEDICATED TO: YOU - it has been so long, too long, since you have had a home.

Have I missed a national holiday? There must be celebrations in the streets for you to be home at this hour of the day. I'm calling it Summerset Goes Mute Day. The city's gone mad with joy.

Assaulting an officer will earn you one to five, Roarke. That's in a cage, not cushy home detention. You're not wearing your badge. Or anything else, for that matter. He gave her a friendly nip on the chin. Be sure to put that in your report.

She had an insult waiting for Summerset, who she knew would comment about her being home early. She'd say it was Mortician's Day, and she'd taken off in his honor. Quick and to the point.

Left with an oncoming headache, went home, and that's verified, to his wife and six-month-old baby. He's three weeks into a big, fat raise and promotion. He doesn't fit for me. Lucky for Whistler, and likely his mother? What? Why? Weak joke. So back to your corporate trio.

I can't go through channels or use either my home or office units. The minute I tried to dig on the chief of police, I'd be flagged. And you're wondering if I have a secured, unregistered system. Of course I do. Of course, she muttered. A nonregistered system is in violation of Code four fifty-three-B, section thirty-five. I can't tell you how aroused it makes me when you quote codes, lieutenant.

But sitting in her own home, with a real meal, and a man who not only listened but got it? She'd won life's trifecta.

And that, she thought as he left her, summed up the miracle of her life. She had a home with him, and he'd be there.

His in-house intercom greeted him with a cheery 'Welcome home, Bart,' and his server droid - custom-made to replicate Princess Leia, classic 'Star Wars,' slave-girl mode (he was a nerd, but he was still a guy) - strolled out to offer him his favorite orange fizzy with crushed ice.

Thoughts, Lieutenant?" Summerset asked as she started up the stairs. "What? On the house? It's better without the scary wallpaper and nightmare kitchen." "A point of agreement. I'll mark the calendar." He sort of got her that time, Eve thought as she continued up. But she'd been thinking of home and work and not of giving him a nice little jab.

But that was personal. No one, absolutely no one comes into our home and speaks to you that way.

Summerset wasn't even where he's supposed to be so I could insult him and start the ditching. I was home even earlier, and told him to go out with some of his friends. Corpses don't have friends, they have other corpses.

Wine?" Roarke said, lifting the bottle. "No. Jesus." Then she took his glass, and a minute sip. "Pretty good stuff. I'm going to let her string him a little longer. So, want to open another bottle when we get home, and have half-drunk sex?" "I think of nothing else every waking moment." He dropped an arm around her shoulders as they watched Peabody work.

She reached down, favoring her injured arm and chose a Galaxy bar that hadn't been flattened by the wrestling match. "I'm going home." "You didn't pay for that," Francois shouted after her. "Fuck you, Frank," she shouted back and kept going.