Quotes About Home

I'd come home but nearly everybody does. It's the ones that don't go home that I feel sorry for, they're not happy.

Inside the house, near the hearth, Amiel had built a sort of fire pit with rocks. It was a safer place to cook than most campsites, really, because there was concrete all around, and I longed to be there when he had the fire going, when we could be cowgirl and cowboy and pretend we weren't a few miles from two million people.

One thing I've been happy as peach pie about - because I'm all about the children and the happiness of a woman because that makes the happiness of the home - is that nannies, day cares and babysitters are all collapsing, which is forcing moms and dads to raise their children at home.

After school I all but ran to Gran's and it was funny how even with her so sick, being with her could still make me feel safe.

To invite people into our homes is to respond with gratitude to the God who made a home for us.

God loves you even on your blackest days, and He will always, always be there to guide you home. All you have to do is look for the light of His love.

Acas? e unde s?l?sluie?te inima.

It's the exile's dilemma. The home they yearn for is never the home to which they return. If they return.

Although Travels included Polo's experiences closer to home, enlivened with shrewd observations

Marco Polo aprendeu a ultrapassar a sua condição de estrangeiro no Império Mongol, para chegar à conclusão de que, agora que estava em casa, tinha-se tornado uma vez mais um estrangeiro.

What makes coming home so jarring, compared to other returns from other exotic places—?isn't simply culture shock. It's human shock, seeing so many people again after dwelling in a place so empty of them.

There are many places that are not made for staying," Heckleck said. "They are too harsh, too hard, and too far away from whatever you call home. You don't root where you don't have to, unless you're unluck.

She smelled of home...as if home had never been a place, but had always been this little person whom she'd carried alongside her.

Every time she kissed him, every time he opened his arms and she crawled into them, felt like a miracle. Coming to her made him feel perfectly welcomed, perfectly at home, as he had never in his life felt before.

At the Richardson house were overstuffed sofas so deep you could sink into them as if into a bubble bath. Credenzas. Heavy sleigh beds. Once you owned an enormous chair like this, Pearl thought, you would simply have to stay put. You would have to plant roots and make the place that held this chair your home.

To have such a deep taproot in a single place, to be immersed in it so thoroughly that it had steeped into every fiber of your being: she couldn't imagine it.

this was the first reason he came to love her: because she had blended in so perfectly, because she had seemed so completely and utterly at home.

Mia held her for a moment, buried her nose in the part of Pearl's hair. Every time she did this, she was comforted by how Pearl smelled exactly the same. She smelled, Mia thought suddenly, of home, as if home had never been a place, but had always been this little person whom she'd carried alongside her.

Children are a place

Each room had been painted a different color—the kitchen a sunny yellow, the living room a deep cantaloupe, the bedrooms a warm peach—and the overall effect was of stepping into a box of sunlight, even on a cloudy day.

They set up her nursery in the bedroom in the attic, where things that were not wanted were kept

as if home had never been a place, but had always been this little person whom she'd carried alongside her.

Once you owned an enormous chair like this, Pearl thought, you would simply have to stay put. You would have to plant roots and make the place that held this chair your home.

For the rest of her life, this would be what Marilyn thought of first when she thought of her mother. Her mother, who had never left her hometown eighty miles from Charlottesville, who always wore gloves outside the house, and who never, in all the years Marilyn could remember, sent her to school without a hot breakfast