Quotes About Home

He parked in the driveway of her home, where a huge Père Noël on the roof waved at him. From the car, Jean-Guy considered the herd of reindeer on the front lawn, all with blinking red noses. It was ridiculous. He kinda liked it.

He walked through the large apartment they'd bought in the Outremont quartier of Montreal when the children had been born and even though they'd long since moved out and were having children of their own now, the place never felt empty. It was enough to share it with Reine-Marie.

home each evening. Exhausted. Bewildered by

Now there is no more loneliness. Go now to your dwelling place / To enter into the days of your togetherness

Safe, thought Gamache. How primal that was, how powerful. What would people do to preserve a safe harbor? They'd do what they'd done for centuries. What the French had done to save Québec, what the English had done to take it. What countries do to protect their borders, what individuals do to protect their homes. They kill. To feel safe. It almost never worked.

No place could ever be warmer than Three Pines.

Home as an allegory for self. A self-portrait of our choices. And our blind spots.

Go now to your dwelling place," he said to Morin. "To enter into the days of your togetherness. And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

tongue-in-groove walls

He sailed through the crowd, through the front of the small church, and found himself in the gloom inside. It always struck Gamache as paradoxical that churches were gloomy. Coming in from the sunshine it took a minute or so to adjust. And even then, to Gamache, it never came close to feeling like home. Churches were either great cavernous tributes not so much to God as the wealth and privilege of the community, or they were austere, cold tributes to the ecstasy of refusal.

Between them on the table sat a basket of steaming rolls and a small dish of butter balls.

That in the midst of your nightmare, the final one, a kind lion will pick your soul up gently by the nape of the neck, Home. Home. He wanted to go home. And sit by the fire. And listen to their friends talking and laughing. To hold Reine-Marie's hand and watch their grandchildren play. And caress you into darkness and paradise.

In Phnom Penh, it seems that the more money you have, the more stairs you have to climb to your home. Ma

Home is where my horse is.

When you have a solid upbringing and a strong sense of place, that sustains you. My sense of home never leaves me.

hic sacra domus carique penates, hic mihi Roma fuit.

and we hang onto our no place happy to be alive and in the inner city or like we call it home

the fact that two whole jars of bay leaves is really like a lifetime's supply, the fact that I wonder if every household has too many bay leaves, the fact that the number of bay leaves you own can easily get out of hand,

the fact that most people live and die where they were born, or they leave home and live somewhere else for decades but come back to pass away, like migrating birds

The children could see their own roof, weighted down by stones, peeping over the edge of the hill long before they were anywhere near it, and they fastened their homesick eyes upon it as a sailor fixes his upon the North Star at sea.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a home where I woke up Christmas morning and had toys. I know that's not the case with all people and I don't think kids should go without experiencing that sort of joy.

I took guitar a while back, and my heart wasn't in it at the time, but I'm ready to try it again. I sing in the car, at home - it's a huge part of my life, especially since I'm from Tennessee.

But I do believe that a woman's truest place is in a home, with a husband and with children, and with large freedom, pecuniary freedom, personal freedom, and the right to vote.

Home is not a place, but rather, the people who love you.