Quotes About Home

Mister didn't come with me on cases, being above such trivial matters, but he found me pleasant company when I was at home and not moving around too much, except when he didn't, in which case he went rambling

After the way I left, I suddenly find myself wanting very much to go home. But . . . it won't be the same when I get back. Will it?" "It will be the same," Grimm said. "You're the one who has changed.

It's an old place, but it sings in the darkness and is, in its own quirky little way, alive. It's home.

Mister went to his spot before the fireplace and demanded that it be made warm.

Home is where you embrace the present and plan the future.

As much as I love to travel, I find that I miss my home there. Still, I suppose that I am glad to travel and even more glad to return. Perhaps I am doubly fortunate.

I did tell you, I said. I told you at Mac's that I'd give you a ride home, but I had to run an errand first. Thomas scowled. An *errand* is getting a tank of gas or picking up a carton of milk or something. It is *not* getting chased by flying purple pyromaniac gorillas hurling incendiary poo.

They're nice cages," I responded. "No space around them. Nothing alive. Places like this turn a man into a gerbil. He comes home and scurries inside. Then he stays there until he's forced to go back out to the job he has to work so that he can make the mortgage payments on this gerbil habitat.

I set things down and locked up my wards and the heavy steel door I'd had installed after a big, bad demon had huffed and puffed and blown down the original. It wasn't until I had them all firmly secured that I let out a slow breath and started to relax. The living room was lit only by the embers of the fire and a few tiny flames. From the kitchen alcove, I heard the soft thumping sound of Mouse's tail wagging against the icebox

Home is where you embrace the present and plan the future. It's where the books are. And more than anything else, it's where you build that world that you want.

Handy, humans, Rowl thought. Clumsy, slow, and not always terribly bright, but they were very very strong, through sheer, inarguable mass. He now saw his father's wisdom in desiring to keep a few of them around the home tunnels. They could manage annoying problems that might prove awkward and time-consuming for cats.

Tavi looked wildly around the courtyard, and when his gaze flicked toward them, his face lit with a ferocious smile. "Uncle Bernard! Uncle Bernard!" he shouted, pointing at Doroga. "He followed me home! Can we keep him?

Your positive impact on the generations to come will be directly related to the ministry you have in that little place called home.

If you want to see changes in the spiritual tone of your home and marriage, start with your own life.

When you leave New York you ain't going anywhere.

LONG ISLAND, WHICH IS considered part of New York and the new home of the Mets, is the perfect place for them. Nothing particularly good has happened on Long Island for over fifty years, so nobody is going to get unduly concerned if the Mets take more than a little while to pull themselves together.

The right combination of guilt and machismo has sent many a fool out into the jungle when he should have stayed home.

Because we were both writers and both worked at home our days were filled with the sound of each other's voice

Part of it is simply what looks right to the eye, sounds right to the ear. I am at home in the West. The hills of the coastal ranges look right to me, the particular flat expanse of the Central Valley comforts my eye. The place names have the ring of real places to me. I can pronounce the names of the rivers, and recognize the common trees and snakes. I am easy here in a way that I am not easy in other places.

I would like to give her more. I would like to promise her that she will grow up with a sense of her cousins and of rivers and of her great-grandmother's teacups, would like to pledge her a picnic on a river with fried chicken and her hair uncombed, would like to give her home for her birthday, but we live differently now and I can promise her nothing like that.

One way in which grief gets hidden is that death now occurs largely offstage. In the earlier tradition from which Mrs. Post wrote, the act of dying had not yet been professionalized. It did not typically involve hospitals. Women died in childbirth. Children died of fevers. Cancer was untreatable. At the time she undertook her book of etiquette, there would have been few American households untouched by the influenza pandemic of 1918. Death was up close, at home.

Part of it is simply what looks right to the eye, sounds right to the ear. I am at home in the West. The hills of the coastal ranges look "right" to me, the particular flat expanse of the Central Valley comforts my eye. The place names have the ring of real places to me. I can pronounce the name of the rivers, and recognize the common trees and snakes. I am easy here in a way that I am not easy in other places.

That I am trapped in this particular irrelevancy is never more apparent to me than when I am home. Paralyzed by the neurotic lassitude engendered by meeting one's past at every turn, around every corner, inside every cupboard, I go aimlessly from room to room.

It's never too late to come home, he said, and pulled me gently, insistently toward him.All you have to do...is stop moving away.