I started off for home, where I planned to recruit a good book and hide away from the world.
Carlos Ruiz ZafónTo a homeless man, home is literally where the heart is.
Mokokoma MokhonoanaClothes are a homeless man’s home.
Mokokoma MokhonoanaTag: home clothes homeless hobo
A home is not a mere transient shelter: its essence lies in the personalities of the people who live in it.
H.L. MenckenBeing at home was like a mattress to fall back on with the smallest of peas on the bottom, just large enough to bother the princess. I was damn lucky that I had a place to call home, but I didn't like the feeling of stealing my parents food and being unable to tell them when I could ever afford my own.
Alida NugentTag: growing-up parents home life-lessons returning-home twentysomething
As the Mississippi snaked and their old home slipped further away, perhaps Samuel had finally left the curse behind.
Andrew GalasettiTag: home curse mississippi-river
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.
Mary OliverMy home will never be a place, but a state of mind, which I find through my music.
Charlotte ErikssonTag: happiness music lost home cities london place berlin going-home finding-home charlotte-eriksson the-glass-child
When the wind blows here, it is your wind; and when the water gurgles among the rocks, it speaks only to you. The mountain stands so that only your eyes can view its glory, and the hill for only your legs to challenge its upward slope. Upon this land you took your first steps, and upon it you swear to take your last. It is always to this place that you feel compelled to return—home.
Michael PuttonenTag: home
There's nothing more difficult than saying goodbye to a house where you've suffered.
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