Quotes About Home

Home, he repeated. Home is where the heart is. Why don't you leave yours here? I'll take very good care of it.

The Morganville in her wanted to tell people to go home and be safe, but she knew that was verging on crazy. The world these laughing people lived in was a very different place. She was in a very different place.

I'm not saying a hunt isn't something we crave, but to a man, we hate to be manipulated. And this is our town, as much as any human's. Our home, and our neighbours and perhaps even our friends. You fall into the trap of thinking as Fallon does, that there are only heroes and villains, monsters and victims, and nothing between. We all stand in that space, crossing the line to one side, then the other. Even you.

It's called being polite; they probably didn't teach you that at home. Doesn't mean I like you or anything.

I am not driving back home in a car with Bipolar Man, I said, and I meant it. Seriously. I've got weapons. -Shane, Fall of Night

Books represented home to him, and around every wall, the doctor's shelves were full to bulging, a haphazard organization of varied colors of binding, sizes, shapes. There was a happy disorder about it that made Jess feel something settle inside he hadn't even known was restless.

But he was starting to realize that maybe he didn't really have a home, except with the people he loved.

Michael, gergin bir günde, kaos yaÅŸan?rken arabada herkesi bir yere b?rak?yordur.. Claire: Beni eve b?rak. Teknik konularda çal??aca??m. Eve: Ben Common Grounds'da inerim. Birileriyle konuÅŸmam gerekiyor. Shane: Bende evde oturup televizyon izlerim. Oda önemli bir iÅŸ. Bu kadar bask? alt?nda herkes beceremez.

I wanted to go home to the safety of my bed and to my stuffed animals and to my people I'd known my whole life. I had nothing to say to anybody, and fervently prayed that no one there would have anything to say to me.

Each man or woman was a mansion in a condition between grandness and disrepair, and even in a grand palace, sometimes a room existed in which no one but the resident would ever be welcome.

Home is where you struggle, in a world of endless struggle, to become the best you can be, and it becomes home in your heart only if one day you can look back and say that, in spite of all your faults and failures, it was in this special place where you began to see, however dimly, the shape of your soul.

Home was the story of what happened there, not the story of where it happened.

Every home ceased to be a home sooner or later, but not with its demolition. It survived destruction as long as just one person who had loved it still lived. Home was the story of what happened there, not the story of where it happened.

No one can genuinely love the world, which is too large to love entire. To love all the world at once is pretense or dangerous self-delusion. Loving the world is like loving the idea of love, which is perilous because, feeling virtuous about this grand affection, you are freed from the struggles and the duties that come with loving people as individuals, with loving one place—home—above all others.

By the time Bibi reached her bedroom, she understood as never before that home wasn't a place but rather a place in the heart. In this troubled world, everything was transient except what we could carry with us in our minds and hearts. Every home ceased to be a home sooner or later, but not with its demolition. It survived destruction as long as just one person who had loved it still lived. Home was the story of what happened there, not the story of where it happened.

I don't desire a change of scenery or exotic experiences. My heart yearns for familiarity, stability, the comfort of home — and my sanity depends on it.

the single-story house

and they believe he or she might have gotten as far as Jacob's Ladder, her island, her home.

He lived in this resplendent house with his fiancée, Paloma Pascal

Loving the world is like loving the idea of love, which is perilous because, feeling virtuous about this grand affection, you are freed from the struggles and the duties that come with loving people as individuals, with loving one place—home—above all others.

She returns to her house and locks the thick oak door.

Moving room to room, she lowers the pleated shades at all the windows.

man who has one pet monkey might be viewed as charmingly eccentric. But a man who has made his home into a monkey house, with scores of chattering chimpanzees capering through the rooms, will have lost credibility with the mental-health authorities.

Built in the 1940s, her small house is a sturdy structure of stone.