Home Quotes - Page 20

To die on a dying Earth - I'd live, if only to weep.

GreenHollyWood, I think that you asked me why I don't get out?- I'm kinda in hateful state, I hate to watch the fucking liars to lie in front of my face and backward to put the knife in my back. Why I stay home?- It's awesome place, I feel safe and out of the ignorance there is always somebody to harass for to get attention.

Home is everything you can walk to.

Just like our story, the original Christmas tales were stories of searching, not so much for the lost, as for the familiar. Mary and Joseph sought in Bethlehem- the home of their familial ancestry- a place to start their own family; the three kings from the East journeyed beneath the sentinel star to find the King of Kings; and the shepherds sought a child in a place most familiar to them: a manger.

The path back home is often the most difficult journey of all.

...everyone goes home in the end.

Our house was open to anyone who needed a little extra support or comfort or just a home-cooked meal.

Home is— Where the heart wants to dwell, Where the mind wants to dance, Where the air is always pleasant, And where love is always abundant.

They can award me with the greatest accolades and reward me with the finest diamonds. They can name days and streets after me, canonise and celebrate me. They can make me the queen of their kingdom, the president of their nation. They can carry my picture in their wallets and whisper my name in their prayers but, tell me, what is all this worth if your voice isn’t the one calling me home?

Old Barley might be as old as thee hills, and might swear like a whole field of troopers, but there were redeeming youth and trust and hope enough in Chinks's Basin to fill it to overflowing.

Fathers are ironic, they want democracy in their country but dictatorship in their home.

Sentiment has never been unpopular except with a few sick persons who are made sicker by the sight of a child, a glimpse of a wedding, or the thought of a happy home.

It will no longer be necessary to leave one's own home in order to find work in the surrounding districts, which means spending week after week away from home, for no matter how restless a fellow might be, his own home, if he has a wife he respects and children he loves, has the same satisfying taste as bread, a man's home is not for all hours, but he soon begins to miss it if he does not go back there every day.

Home is the place I can live with myself, without hating myself.

Instead of more consumerism – the buying of experiences, the accumulation of things, of eating the ‘other’ – perhaps writers should name their own environment. What is the shape of your watershed? How is your electricity produced? Where is your water treated? Where is your food produced and by whom and how does it travel to your local market? What are the names of the rocks under your feet and around you? What formed those geological features? Who were the first humans here? What flora and fauna live upon it and what are their habits and interfaces? What stars whirl above you and what names have they been given, what lore? How can one trace the relations, find the slippages between histories, the linkages, to find the complexities in naming and of the named? Travel as one’s carbon footprint; travel as a footstep, travel as a naming in a landscape in all its complexity. Homing as a way to place oneself in a constellation of process and being.

And we're finally home.

The truth is, until you know any different, the island is enough.Actually, I know different. And it's still enough.

Old buildings whisper to us in the creaking of floorboards and rattling of windowpanes.

Home means always here...

Why not surround yourself with things that make you content? After all, there's no place like home.

I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may be amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through wearing years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may.

Driving to see my childhood home was very significant for me. It taught me the importance of home, especially to children. Your home is more than just a shelter. It is more than just a place to showcase your design skills. It is more than just a means to an end (especially if you would rather live somewhere else). It is the most importance place of your life. It provides you solace and refuge from the harsh world. It provides tangible comforts, like your cozy sofa and warm bed. But it also provides other comforts in the energy it gives off. You will have so many memories in this home. There will be many firsts here, and if you have children, they will remember even the smallest details about your home - especially all of its off-beat character.

(about organizing books in his home library, and putting a book in the "Arts and Lit non-fiction section)I personally find that for domestic purposes, the Trivial Pursuit system works better than Dewey.

As the Mississippi snaked and their old home slipped further away, perhaps Samuel had finally left the curse behind.

Somewhere beyond all that, on an unseeable horizon, was Morrighan and all the people who lived there, going about their lives, unaware. My brothers. Pauline. Berdi. Gwyneth. And more patrols like Walther's who would meet their deaths, as unaware as I had once been. I want to go with you. Where I was going was no place for Natiya. It was hardly a place for me.

Home.” This was my mantra, my four-letter savior.

Thomas Jefferson asked himself “In what country on earth would you rather live ” He first answered “Certainly in my own where are all my friends my relations and the earliest and sweetest affections and recollections of my life.” But he continued “which would be your second choice ” His answer “France.

I thought about that old saying, how we can never go home again. But I think it's more like a piece of us stays behind when we leave -- a piece we can never reclaim, one that awaits our next visit and demands that we remember.

Today is a new day! Let today be the day you free your mind from the prison of self doubt. Your thoughts can either hinder you or propel you to the next level. Precautions are necessary to maintain your safety and well-being. But fear and precautions are two different things. When you are afraid your doubt is increased. Do what makes you happy in order to satisfy the core of your existence. Fear: to be afraid of something or someone whether the threat is real or imaginedPrecaution: a measure taken in advance to prevent something from happening, prudent foresightDoubt:a feeling of uncertainty or lack of conviction

I mean, by such flightiness, something that feels unsatisfied at the center of my life — that makes me shaky, fickle, inquisitive, and hungry. I could call it a longing for home and not be far wrong. Or I could call it a longing for whatever supersedes, if it cannot pass through, understanding. Other words that come to mind: faith, grace, rest. In my outward appearance and life habits I hardly change — there’s never been a day that my friends haven’t been able to say, and at a distance, “There’s Oliver, still standing around in the weeds. There she is, still scribbling in her notebook.” But, at the center: I am shaking; I am flashing like tinsel. Restless. I read about ideas. Yet I let them remain ideas. I read about the poet who threw his books away, the better to come to a spiritual completion. Yet I keep my books. I flutter; I am attentive, maybe I even rise a little, balancing; then I fall back.

This, it occurred to me, was the deeper meaning in the mournful merriment I had been part of that day. I stood at Mam's sink before bedtime, filling an iced tea glass with water, thinking that I had underestimated this place where I was born. I knew it was a good place to be from. I had no idea how great a place it was to be.

Home is within me, no matter where I go, no matter what happens to our planet or our people.

Home was never a dream for homeless people as they used to have their homes. Living in a home was their reality. Now we need to help them to find the lost-reality again.

It’s amazing how many different roads we can take, but they all lead home.

Home is supposed to be a place of security, the last resort of refuge.

Home is where I am the least organized, I let go and become the truest version of myself; not because I don't care how I am perceived, rather, I know exactly how I am perceived and that gives me the courage to be carefree

My Keeper took everything from me: my home, my family, my voice. He made me powerless. But I'm home now. It may be split in two, but I have it back. My family may be broken, but I have it back. I have my voice back. I am not powerless anymore.

You don’t have a home until you leave it and then, when you have left it, you never can go back.

We often seek beauty in the outside, in the unknown, and often lack to realize the sheer beauty right in front of our very eyes, back home.

Diana frowns. “You’re taking me home, right? You just said you would.” “Hoink hoink! Of course, piglet. But I meant your real home.” “Which, last I checked,” says Diana acidly, “is in Los Angeles, California, United States of America, solar system, planet Earth.” “Hmm,” says the boar, hiccupping dreamily. “That’s what you think, darling. Tell me, can you say you’ve felt really at home at that address? Haven’t you been homesick your whole life?

Hope is made of air, and wishes. An empty box wrapped in shiny paper.And now Dad wants me to be the ambassador of hope for his foundation. How can I be the ambassador of hope, when hope doesn't change anything? When unrealized hopes only bring pain and despair?

Home is what we know we ought to want but can't really take. America is not so much a home for anyone as a universal dream of home, a wish whose attraction depends upon its remaining at the level of a wish. The movies bring the boys back but stop as soon as they get them back; for home, that vaunted, all-American ideal, is a sort of death, and an oblique justification for all the wandering that kept you away from it for so long.

Introverts live in two worlds: We visit the world of people, but solitude and the inner world will always be our home.

But even though our old home had physically seen better days, I knew in that moment that we had taken the soul of that house with us to our new home. And as I branched out and left our small town, I'd taken all the best bits of home life - the essence of its soul - with me wherever I went. It's the soul that matters most, after all. And even though over the years I've lived in everything from a cramped dorm room at school to a grand apartment in Paris and finally to our family town home in Santa Monica, I have taken the soul of home with me, wherever I am.

When I was in junior high school, I used to think that Disney's 1990's paranormal television program 'So Weird' was every kid's ideal life - not going to school, living on a tour bus, having rockstar parents, traveling all over North America and never staying in one place for more than a week or so. Of course, eventually the realization hits you that the kids out there who really do live like this, pulling up stakes every week and never staying with their friends or having a permanent residence, aren't really happy.

Human feelings are queer things -- I am much happier -- black-leading the stove's -- making the beds and sweeping the floors at home, than I should be living like a fine lady anywhere else.

We can’t go back to something we ain’t never been to in the first place. It ain’t ours anymore. This is.

I have no house but glad to have a home.

Relax in your own home, Kylie. It's one of the few places on earth you're free to be as you really are.

My grandfather used to say ‘It is my house I am paying the bills’,my dad used to say ‘this is my house I pay the mortgage’,my generation is saying this is my house I pay the rent.

...Going into the unknown means returning to the known is a bewitching sweetness. Adventure doesn't always require a sturdy backpack.

And then comes the realization. That although a house was taken from you, you can still build a home in a wine jar.

You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use— silence, exile, and cunning.

Never underestimate the significance of the little things done out of a large heart of love.

When your partner is regularly going out to bars and nightclubs and does not come home until after sunrise, it is likely that they are engaging in some form of infidelity.

If your heart is your home, you can be happy anywhere.

...home is a magnet that lures back even its most abstracted children. But whether tomorrow or years from now, I cannot guess.

But I thought you were home to stay,” she said, exhaustion clear in her voice.“Ellie, you were my home.” He looked down at the sleeping infant. “But I can’t stick around and watch you make the biggest mistake of your life.

I'm being uprooted," Dino said. "You're being transplanted," Viv replied, "and to a better home.

[The kitchen] was also messy--delightfully so, thought Jane--and it didn't look as though lots of cooking went on there. There was a laptop computer on the counter with duck stickers on it, the spice cabinet was full of Ben's toy trucks, and Jane couldn't spot a cookbook anywhere. This is the kitchen of a Thinker, she decided, and promised herself that she'd never bother with cooking, either.