Quotes About Home

The alternative to a vacation is to stay home and tip every third person you see.

She looked down and saw Genji on his warhorse, and it was he who was out of place, not herself. The incongruity of a samurai in her orchard made her laugh. Her own laughter brought her back. Coming back, she began to weep. "My home was in Apple Valley," Emily said. "Another Apple Valley." After a time, Genji said, "This place was yours before you ever saw it.

Don't judge a home by its appearance, but by the warmth of its welcome.

Å, som hun savnet de svale, tåkete morgenene hjemme i Irland. Lukten av regn og gress, havet som slo inn mot de svarte klippene og den beske lukten av brennende torv i ovnen. (...) Velda tvang bort de forræderske tankene på Irland. Hun visste de bare dukket opp i svake stunder, og hun visste at hun ville følge mannen sin til verdens ende - selv om det var varmt som i helvetet og dobbelt så ubehagelig.

I liked my house. I liked my stuff. I had to start over once. I don't want to have to do it again. But life says, 'Tough bounce,' and what are my options? Take it on the chin and keep marching.

My house has one integral living space and I am sitting on the couch facing the TV, while she is perched on a stool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, my laptop open in front of her. We have adopted these same positions so many times over the years, it's like we have worn a groove in time. I imagine us suspended here for ever, like tiny figures in a doll's house.

and our footsteps rang and echoed till it sounded like the room was full of dancers, the house calling up all the people who had danced here across centuries of spring evenings, gallant girls seeing gallant boys off to war, old men and women straight-backed while outside their world disintegrated and the new one battered at their doors, all of them bruised and all of them laughing, welcoming us into their long lineage.

the room looks like it was bought through some Decorate Your Home app where you plug in your budget and your favorite colors and the whole thing arrives in a van the next day. In

The front door opened smoothly to my key, the air inside stirred as I came in and it didn't feel over-intimate anymore; it felt like a slight smile and a cool brief touch on the cheek, like a welcome.

And some go the other way, the most lethal way of all: when the pressure gets to be too much, it's not their nerve that breaks, it's their fear. They lose the capacity to be afraid, even when they should be. These can't ever go home again. They're like those First World War airmen, the finest ones, shining in their recklessness and invincible, who got home and found that home had no place for what they were. Some people are undercovers all the way to the bone; the job has taken them whole.

He told me and Rafe to stay put in case you came home, burn the note and get hot water and disinfectant and bandages ready—' 'Which would have come in useful, Rafe said, lighting another cigarette, 'if we'd been delivering a baby in Gone with the Wind . What on earth was he picturing? Home surgery on the kitchen table with Abby's embroidery needle?

They're like those First World War airmen, the finest ones, shining in their recklessness and invincible, who got home and found that home had no place for what they were.

I love messy homes, homes where a woman and kids have left their mark on every inch: sticky finger marks down the walls, trinkets and nests of pastel hair-gadgets on the mantelpiece, that smell of flowery things and ironing.

It rains day and night, mildly but uncompromisingly, so Cal takes the desk inside and goes back to his wallpaper. He enjoys this rain. It has no aggression to it; its steady rhythm and the scents it brings in through the windows gentle the house's shabbiness, giving it a homey feel. He's learned to see the landscape changing under it, greens turning richer and wildflowers rising. It feels like an ally, rather than the annoyance it is in the city.

This country's passion for property is built into the blood, a current as huge and primal as desire. Centuries of being turned out on the roadside at a landlord's whim, helpless, teach your bones that everything in life hangs on owning your home.

When you walk into the house, you want to be seeing your woman, and hearing her. You need to know she's there, or what's the point in having her at all?

I'm not saying that owning a house makes life into some kind of blissful paradise; simply that it makes the difference between freedom and enslavement.

Boyle is a round, pancake-faced little oddball who gives you the impression that he has a room at home packed with disturbing magazines, neatly alphabetized, but he runs a scene impeccably

The thought of a mortgage round my neck makes me edgy.

I leaned my arms on the Ha'penny Bridge where people used to pay half a penny to cross the Liffey, I looked out at the Custom House and the shifting streams of lights and the steady dark roll of the river under the falling snow, and I hoped to God that somehow or other, before it was too late, we would all find our way back home.

I'd rather see an apartment block any day, all charged up with people who go out to work every morning and keep this country buzzing and then come home to the nice little places they've earned, than a field doing bugger-all good to anyone except a couple of cows.

He had taken up woodworking, there was sawdust on his soft worn trousers; his wife had wrapped a scarf around his neck and kissed his cheek as he went out.

I want you at home so that any time I start getting panicky, I can stick my head in and look at you and take a few deep breaths. It's for my sake, not yours.

dumped an enormous IKEA package in the house: presumably it would change the landscape if and when I got up the energy to assemble it, but until then it was just there, in the middle of everything, where I barked my shin or banged my elbow on it every time I tried to get past.