Quotes About Belongings

I'm a terrible person for carrying things around. I carry everything around with me, it's like my home.

Everyone has something they don't want anyone to see; that is one of the functions of a home, to provide a spot to keep such things.

There is nothing which so generally strikes the imagination and engages the affections of mankind, as the right of property.

Yours is only what you always have on you.

Your existence depends on what you have, not what you are.

How could people let go of their old things, when each told a part of their story? Old things were a literature, a narrative.

We had reached the bathing pavilion. There I checked the bag, together with my watch and money, putting the two last-named articles in a big manila envelope and writing my name across the back. I received in exchange a numbered metal tag on a thick rubber band. I followed Bat Shayne's example of putting this band around my neck, feeling just a little like a licensed dog as I did so.

For those who belong nowhere, and for those who belong to one place too much to belong anywhere else.

No one is a plain white room. I hate going into a home that is done to the nines but has nothing do with the homeowner - no knickknacks, no art that has anything to say about the person who lives there.

The first time my mom was hospitalized, she was forcibly sedated before I was admitted to see her. When I arrived, someone handed me a plastic bag containing her belongings: the ruined clothes that had been cut off her body with scissors.

What you collect is the ultimate impartation of who you are. It's the archive of your identity - it's what you leave behind.

What you collect says so much about who you are.

Louise's possessions looked like a refugee's beside his, a refugee who spent a lot of time in IKEA.

The past has no belongings. The past does not obligingly absorb what is not wanted.

mis recuerdos que al igual que tantas de mis pertenencias me sirven tan sólo a mí y se hacen inútiles si yo me muero, no sólo desaparece quien soy sino quien he sido, no sólo yo, pobre Marta, sino mi memoria entera, un tejido discontinuo y siempre inacabado y cambiante y estampado de sietes

THE BELOVED OBJECTS that we had carried with us from place to place were now left behind in the wagon and, with them, finally, our illusions. Every

I felt I was owned by possessions.

Most of us seem to be buried under our own possessions, and it seems to be getting worse.

We hardly notice how ubiquitous our stuff is until we have to move it to a new house.

Your only treasures are those that you carry in your heart.

I don't know if I've owned a piece of technology that I hated - I don't think I would have owned it then.

Strange things our parents give us that we cannot give away or put on a shelf.

My wife has her stuff and her taste, and I have my stuff and my taste.

I think homes should reflect the individuals and their individual taste rather than someone else's.