Quotes About Belonging

Siete ben bravi a dirmi dove son nato; io non lo so. Non tutti hanno una casa, per venire al mondo in quella; sarebbe troppo comodo.

Alone is overrated," he said simply.

The idea of it, of staying here and finding a good life and a place to belong, seduced her as nothing ever had.

You either belong here,, wild and untamed yourself, or you don't.

Home is part of us. It's in the scars we have on our knees and elbows, in the memories that surface when we sleep. I don't think you can ever really leave.

she'd always believed that she didn't belong. It was, she realized, an ugly bit of baggage that she'd carried here from her youth, and she'd been so damned busy hanging on to it that she'd failed to notice that the bags were empty.

Alone is overrated," he said simply.

When you get . . . to the end, you see that love and family are all there is. Nothing else matters.

After so many solitary years, spent tucked away in convents and forgotten in boarding schools, Isabelle never took for granted the fact that now she had friends, people whom she cared about and who cared about her.

Maybe it had all happened the way it needed to, maybe they'd each crossed their own oceans -hers of damaged love and loss, his of pain- to be here again together, where they belonged.

Mama wanted to induct Leni into some terrible, silent club to which Leni didn't want to belong. She didn't want to pretend what had happened was normal, but what was she—a kid—supposed to do about it?

Home was a state of mind, the peace that came from being who you were and living an honest life.

Don't be who you needed to be over there. Come home to the people who love you. I wish to hell I'd figured out a way to do that.

On bad days, like today, she knew that she had always been an outsider in her own family. They had sensed the lack in her early on, seen that she didn't fit in.

Being alone in a crowd is the worst, I think. Everyone belongs somewhere except you.

loneliness is the worst kind of poverty

Where are you from?" he asked. Leni never knew how to answer that question. It implied a permanence, a before that had never existed for her. She'd never thought of any place as home.

Ah. I should have known. You're one of us. … You're someone who finds herself in the pages,"…

Books, wherever they were in the world, always felt like home to her.

Once you've fallen in love with books, their presence can make you feel at home anywhere, even in places where you shouldn't belong.

incredible how familiar the place feels, though I've never been here. Once you've fallen in love with books, their presence can make you feel at home anywhere, even in places where you shouldn't belong.

Vy na samom dele ne russkaya, ne tak li?

I'm in a place foreign to me, but there's something about Paris that feels very familiar. I wonder for the first time if a sense of place can be passed down through the blood.

And though grief weighed her down—she couldn't take a step without seeing Sister Maria Andrzeja's empty eyes—she also felt lighter, untethered at last from a past that had always been an invisible weight. She was not Jerusza's—she never had been, and she knew that now. But neither was she her German father's. She belonged only to herself, a dove of the dark forest, the forest that called to her now.