Quotes About Belonging

He no longer belongs to me alone.

I see." The centaur turned to me. "And you, Patroclus? You are worthy?" I swallowed. "I do not know if I am worthy. But I wish to stay." I paused, swallowed again. "Please.

And I was pleased, because I felt that he had seen her, had understood why I spent my days with her when he was gone. She was one of us now, I thought. A member of our circle, for life.

Begitukah semua orang, yang begitu lama meninggalkan negerinya, sehingga mereka tak betah lagi dimana pun, baik Belanda maupun di Hindia? Atau, kita akan terbiasa lagi, bila saja mempunyai keluarga, sebuah home?

Listen to me, Ria. It will be different when you and I have a home. It will be a real home, one that people will want to come running back to.

Home is a place in the mind. When it is empty, it frets. It is fretful with memory, faces and places and times gone by. Beloved images rise up in disobedience and make a mirror for emptiness. Then what resentful wonder, and what half-aimless seeking. It is a silly state of affairs. It is a silly creature that tries to get a smile from even the most familiar and loving shadow. Comical and hopeless, the long gaze back is always turned inward.

You could say that an exile was a person who knew of a country that made all other countries seem strange.

How can they not have invited him to this meeting? He used to have influence – he used to rule over them all. He used to be someone.

Esme picks up woollen combinations and asks where they go in the baffling order of things. The shopgirl looks at their grandmother who shakes her head. 'They are from the colonies,' she says.

I am from there. I am from here. I am not there and I am not here. I have two names, which meet and part, and I have two languages. I forget which of them I dream in.

Where can I free myself of the homeland in my body?

I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a single word: Home.

Out of my ignorance, I called you a homeland and I forgot homelands are taken away.

Like a small coffeehouse on the street of exiles That is love, it opens its doors to all.

Where can I write my latest account of the body's incarnation? It's the end of what was bound to end! Where is that which ends? Where can I free myself of the homeland in my body?

he says I am from there, I am from here, but I am neither there nor here. I have two names which meet and part… I have two languages, but I have long forgotten— which is the language of my dreams

Words are a homeland.

Later, we'll look up what was recorded in our history about yours in faraway lands. Then we'll ask ourselves, "Was Andalusia here or there? On earth, or only in poems?

You ask: What is the meaning of "homeland"? They will say: The house, the mulberry tree, the chicken coop, the beehive, the smell of bread, and the first sky. You ask: Can a word of eight letters be big enough for all of these, yet too small for us?

Everything around me looks like me and I look like nothing here

And writing is not enough for me to declare: I found my presence filling in absence and whenever I searched for myself I found others and whenever I searched for them I found only myself the stranger Am I a crowd of one?

March roses shall burn me in the land where I was first born. / Pomegranate blossoms will conceive of me, / and I will be born from it once more.

Trumpet in a herd of elephants; crow in the company of cocks; bleat in a flock of goats.

Who we are cannot be separated from where we're from.