Quotes About Home

And I, through woods and fields, through fallen days Am passing to where I belong: At home, at ease, and well, In Sabbaths of this place Almost invisible, Toward which I go from song to song.

He turned to his own place then . . . and began to ask what might be the best use of it. How might a family live there without reducing it?

I had made a significant change in my relation to the place: before, it had been mine by coincidence or accident; now it was mine by choice. My return, which at first had been hesitant and tentative, grew wholehearted and sure. I had come back to stay. I hoped to live here the rest of my life. And once that was settled I began to see the place with a new clarity and a new understanding and a new seriousness.

I began to take for granted that I was somewhere, and somewhere that I knew, but I never quite felt that I was somewhere I wanted to be.

I dread the beginning of her new life more than words can tell, but I see some hope for her if she travels - none if she remains at home.

It was woman who gave man agriculture and the home; she domesticated man as she domesticated the sheep and the pig.

But before twenty is the joy of the body, and after thirty is the joy of the mind; before twenty is the pleasure of protection and security; and after thirty, the joy of parentage and home. How

You know, at home in Newington, Mac works all day to keep the house spotlessly clean. The gardeners work outside to bring the entire garden to near perfection. But it's all an illusion. It's artificial. All life is disorganized.

Come, come, leave off play, and let us away, Till the morning appears in the skies. No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, And we cannot go to sleep; Besides, in the sky the little birds fly, And the hills are all covered with sheep. Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, And then go home to bed. The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed, And all the hills echoed.

A house is sometimes wine. It is sometimes more than a skin.

Here is my first principle of foreign policy: good government at home.

Surely heaven must have something of the color and shape of whatever village or hill or cottage of which the believer says, This is my own.

Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar. Man the sum of his climatic experiences Father said. Man the sum of what have you. A problem in impure properties carried tediously to an unvarying nil: stalemate of dust and desire.

Your outside is just what you live in, sleep in, and has little connection with who you are and even less with what you do.

Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar. Man the sum of his climatic experiences Father said. Man the sum of what have you. A problem in impure properties carried tediously to an unvarying nil: stalemate of dust and desire. but now I know I'm dead I tell you

And you came home? To die. Yes. To die? Yes. To die.

He took off his hat and shook it (having hurried home as though his own coronation were waiting), and moved now with the slow deliberation of lonely people who have time for every meager requirement of their lives.

He was seized with longing so intense it ached in his chest, he wanted it always to keep, to drag out secretly and study it like a yellowed photograph, and he thought I am home, this is me, this is where I have been rambling down to all these years.

You will come with us. We are at home with situations of legal ambiguity. The treaties under which our arm of the Registry operates grant us a great deal of flexibility. And we create flexibility, in situations where it is required.

Earth is the alien planet now.

I'm frightened. Of us. I want to go home. Oh God, I want to go home.

Nereden geldinse, oraya döneceksin.

This was after stew. But then, so is everything. When the first man crawled out of the slime and went to make his home on land, what he had for dinner that night was stew.

DOC    Yes, you want to study hard, Marie, learn to be a fine artist some day. Paint lots of beautiful pictures. I remember a picture my mother had over the mantelpiece at home, a picture of a cathedral in a sunset, one of those big cathedrals in Europe somewhere. Made you feel religious just to look at it.