I had always thought of home not as a house, or even a place, but a feeling of safety and acceptance, a warm light when the rest of the world was a dark, forbidding place.
Whenever my family was around, wherever we were, I felt like I was home.
My home is my country, and it’s in heaven. My home is, therefore, heaven. And it’s in the space. My home is, therefore, universe. And it’s in my head. That means that I have no other homeland – but myself!
Moj dom je moja zemlja, a ona je na nebu. Moj dom je, dakle, nebo. A ono je u svemiru. Moj dom je, dakle, vasiona. A ona je u mojoj glavi. Znači da ja nemam drugog zavičaja – sem sebe!
Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth. He ought to give himself up to a particular landscape in his experience; to look at it from as many angles as he can, to wonder upon it, and dwell upon it.
Anyone Born On This Planet Should Have A Planetary Citizenship Enabling Them To Freely Explore There Home.
For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.
Sometimes in life you find love so powerful that you get tunnel vision. You only see the one you love, the one you desire. No one or no thing gets in the way of what you feel. A love so strong which makes you feel invincible in this world. And, everywhere you go, all the people can see you glow.
This world
that was our home
for a brief spell
never brought us anything
but pain and grief;
its a shame that not one of our problems
was ever solved.
We depart
with a thousand regrets
in our hearts.
I enjoy writing, I enjoy my house, my family and, more than anything I enjoy the feeling of seeing each day used to the full to actually produce something. The end.
The vast and beautiful world is the home we share together.
I was slightly thankful when Mom finally came out and unlocked the car. It was warm and toasty inside and it smelt like home. There was not the slightest smell of something that didn’t belong home.
It was the ideal place where people call ‘home.
The core of your
true self
is never lost.
Let go of all the
pretending and
the becoming
you've done just
to belong.
Curl up with your
rawness and come home.
You don't have to
find yourself;
you just have to
let yourself in.
At home I am a man, at work I am a machine.
Amidst the chaos of the cities, a part of you always yearns for the silence of the woods.
By remaining constrained in one's environment or country or family, one has little chance of being other than the original prescription. By leaving, one gains a perspective, a distance of both space and time, which is essential for writing about family or home, in any case.
True, beneath the human façade, I was an interloper, an alien whose ship had crashed beyond hope of repair in the backwoods of Southern Appalachia - but at least I’d learned to walk and talk enough like the locals to be rejected as one of their own.
Better to have a messy home and happy children than a perfect yard and unhappy children
While we tend to think of love as some faraway place, it is actually a place nearby that we have forgotten.
I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a
single word: Home.
Home. The word circled comfortably in my mouth like bubble gum, swished around sweetly soft and satisfying. Home. Try saying it aloud to yourself. Home. Isn’t it like taking a bite of something lovely? If only we could eat words.
I dread the beginning of her new life more than words can tell, but I see some hope for her if she travels - none if she remains at home.
Let's create a new memory,where our futures will fall back for strength
A future as lonely as the surface of the moon and still just the sight of him feels like a homecoming, like a song I used to know but forgot.
There’s a reason you don’t have pictures of your work area at sweet home.
Having books standing on a shelf in a room is like having completely different worlds at the ready, waiting to be explored.
Detroit is big enough to matter in the world and small enough for you to matter in it.
I was not merely cleaning an oven; I was improving the world.
Wherever you travel to, there is your home.
There was not an inch of solid ground anywhere in the world for me to call my own. I didn't belong anywhere. Had I disappeared, no one would have noticed.
This is not just "our" world.
A (wo)men travels the world over in search of wht (s)he needs and returns home to find it
Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home - my only home.
I live in my own little world. But its ok, they know me here.
Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.
A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.
A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.
Home is where somebody notices when you are no longer there.
I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.
After all," Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.
You can't go home again
She might be without country, without nation, but inside her there was still a being that could exist and be free, that could simply say I am without adding a this, or a that, without saying I am Indian, Guyanese, English, or anything else in the world.
Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.
Philosophy is really nostalgia, the desire to be at home.
Body is a home, a prison and a grave.
God, with a wisdom I can't claim to understand, called you home a long time ago, and the tears I shed that night have never seemed to dry.
A permanent path
That, once illuminated,
Goes ever onward – a way home…
Happiness is not only a hope, but also in some strange manner a memory ... we are all kings in exile.
The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.
Small Moth...
She's slicing ripe white peaches
into the Tony the Tiger bowl
and dropping slivers for the dog
poised vibrating by her foot to stop their fall
when she spots it, camouflaged,
a glimmer and then full on-
happiness, plashing blunt soft wings
inside her as if it wants
to escape again.
Dig Deep! When the task at hand seems to be very difficult. Dig Deep! Whenever you feel you're drifting away from your intended course. Dig Deep! When others doubt you and say it can't be done. Dig Deep! Whenever you feel like giving up. Dig Deep! When life throws you a curve ball. If you quit, you'll never hit that homerun
Romance is about putting things aright after some tragedy has put them asunder. It is about restoration of the right relations among things and going home is where that restoration occurs because that is where it matters most.
It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a seagull or a fish. As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not really wanted, who can never belong, who must be a little in love with death!
...what happens when you return
and find nothing
but a hollowed shell,
shingles and floor,
walls and echoes
and the light that lead you here
has now burned out
and the ones who built it
have traveled afar
and you cant go to them,
no matter what shoes you wear.
The same sun that rises over castles and welcomes the day
Spills over buildings into the streets where orphans play
And only You can see the good in broken things
You took my heart of stone, and You made it home
And set this prisoner free
I believe that a godly home is a foretaste of heaven. Our homes, imperfect as they are, must be a haven from the chaos outside. They should be a reflection of our eternal home, where troubled souls find peace, weary hearts find rest, hungry bodies find refreshment, lonely pilgrims find communion, and wounded spirits find compassion.
A woman who walks with God honors Him in the way she manages her home.
Home was not a perfect place. But it was the only home they had and they could hope to make it better.
Sometimes memory is the only gift we give ourselves and the only hope we have of finding our way home.
I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I was forever estranged from my place of habit – the carpet I would ash my cigarettes on, the gin bathtub where I would soak to keep my weight down and stir my medicines, the couch full of holes from slippery syringes, the stack of old newspapers I would reread.
Thing were falling apart. We just could not slow down. We were evolving into something greater, perhaps too much for our own good. And one thing always remained as I moved on. I saved a little bit of love just in case you would ever return home.
Healthy home, healthy life.
We must experience Heaven on earth;
May your homes, surroundings and work places portray a safe clean environment.
The festive season isn’t just a time to teach children about Jesus and giving, it’s also a time to teach your children about those less fortunate. This year, encourage your children to pick a present and give it to a child who has none, or take them to a charity drive.
HOME is where the heart is, but today, the PHONE is where the Heart is!!!
I knew I loved you
when 'home' went from being a place
to being a person.
Your positive impact on the generations to come will be directly related to the ministry you have in that little place called home.
It was good to walk into a library again; it smelled like home.
Aryami Bose's home had been closed up for years, inhabited only by books and paintings, but the spectre of thousands of memories imprisoned between its walls still permeated the house.
Home is where your books are.
On gray days, when it's snowing or raining, I think you should be able to call up a judge and take an oath that you'll just read a good book all day, and he'd allow you to stay home.
No other success can compensate for failure in the home.
Managing in-home nursing is not always easy. It can be terribly frustrating sometimes, and it can take a while to feel like everything is under control, but success is possible.
I suddenly realise that it doesn't matter how far I go, or how lost I am, or how lonely I feel. I fit in here. I always will.
That's how I know I'm home.
Time is the only way to run away without leaving home.
Everyone changes so slowly, they don't even know that they have. And everyone likes to pretend that things are just the same yet they look at you like you could bring something back that's supposed to already be here. But home is a time. Not just a place.
Here. There. Everywhere. Somewhere. Home.
Sticking to one person for a lifetime is not a waste of time or lack of better ones, it means you've found your place of eternity.
In past wars only homes burnt, but this time
Don't be surprised if even loneliness ignites.
In past wars only bodys burnt, but this time
Don't be surprised if even shadows ignite.
Long has been this road called life. Every time you venture out in this road, remember. Home is within. Home is in you.
…everyone needs a somewhere, a place he can go. There comes a time, you see, inevitably there comes a time you have to have a somewhere you can go!
In the 1950s at least less was expected of women. Now we're supposed to build a career, build a home, be the supermum that every child deserves, the perfect wife, meet the demands of elderly parents, and still stay sane.
Her name had the likeness of a name. She had the likeness of a woman, with hands but no face at all, since she never let herself see it. She had the likeness of a life, because she was all alone in it. She lived in the likeness of a house, with walls and a roof and a door that kept nothing in and nothing out.
A man can build a home but it needs a woman to run a home.
Leaving home's a cinch. It's the staying, once you've found it, that takes courage.
A tried and true way to get your children interested in books and reading is to read to them when they are young.
For me, reading begins at home.
I started off for home, where I planned to recruit a good book and hide away from the world.
There is a certain loveliness, I think, to performing deep cleaning in one’s underwear on a beautiful summer day.
It was so lovely, Heidi stood with tears pouring down her cheeks, and thanked God for letting her come home to it again. She could find no words to express her feelings, but lingered until the light began to fade and then ran on.
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits;- on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
My boyfriend likes to fuck my brains out on our kitchen island. Which tile would you recommend for that?
Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.
...returning to nature has been a dream present in the minds of every generation since mankind first left nature.
The river of my village doesn’t make you think about anything.
When you’re at its bank you’re only at its bank.
The moon rested right above the mountains, a place I call home.
The Pacific is my home ocean; I knew it first, grew up on its shore, collected marine animals along the coast. I know its moods, its color, its nature.
Home at that moment was a starless night, a steady wind, not a human to be seen.
Three Pines wasn’t on any tourist map, being too far off any main or even secondary road. Like Narnia, it was generally found unexpectedly and with a degree of surprise that such an elderly village should have been hiding in this valley all along. Anyone fortunate enough to find it once usually found their way back.
Among the great struggles of man-good/evil, reason/unreason, etc.-there is also this mighty conflict between the fantasy of Home and the fantasy of Away, the dream of roots and the mirage of the journey.
If Light Is In Your Heart
You Will Find Your Way Home.