Best 47 quotes in «homeland quotes» category

Is one's homeland the place where a person evolves into life, or is that a choice made in adulthood, as one chooses a fateful name? Perhaps it is also your memory, Father Raven,that plays tricks on me, and the land that was given to my mind's eye is not all the homeland where our ancestors lived. Am I entitled to call my island "home," even though I do not live in it permanently? Even though from sun cycle to sun cycle it becomes more of a dream? I am flooded with another person's nostalgia, captive to the visions that insist on visiting me. A fictitious homeland. A longed-for land that never was. If land is not property, then anywhere may be considered a homeland, and the Jewish tribe may therefore adopt the island even without a deed of ownership. The Jew is free to settle in whichever land he desires. Why, then does he insist on drawing borders for himself, when he has already managed to obtain a measure of power that I will never achieve? Perhaps that is the Jewish tribe's virtue: they have turned their foreignness into a javelin.

My nation is my family. And family is the basis of my inner being, the solid ground on which I stand… If family breaks from the inside, it leads to complete destruction… I have a mission… Once, when my nation, my family, needs me, I must be there…

Mag sein, daß die Leute sagen werden, ich bleibe daheim, um mich nicht von den dunklen Augen Ninos trennen zu müssen. Mag sein. Vielleicht haben diese Menschen auch recht. Denn diese dunklen Augen sind für mich wie die heimatliche Erde, wie der Ruf der Heimat nach ihrem Sohn, den ein Fremder auf fremde Wege verleiten will. Ich bleibe, um die dunklen Augen der Heimat vor dem Unsichtbaren zu schützen.

It seemed that our family had been on this land for thousands of years; that we had sprung from the earth, born of its flesh like a tree or a flower, deep-rooted, not by our feet, but by our hearts.

It would be the simplest thing to say, my homeland is where I was born. But when you returned, you found nothing. What does that mean? It would be the simplest thing to say, my homeland is where I will die. But you could die anywhere, or on the border between two places. What does that mean? After a while the question will become harder. Why did you leave? Why did you leave? For twenty years you have been asking, why did they leave? Leaving is not a negation of the homeland, but it does turn the problem into a question. Do not write a history now. When you do that, you leave the past behind, and what is required is to call the past to account. Do not write a history except that of your wounds. Do not write a history except that of your exile. You are here - here, where you were born. And where longing will lead you to death. So, what is homeland?

I want to see a flowering of Arab and Jewish cultures in a country without racism or anti-Semitism, without rich or poor or spat-upon: everyone beneath the vine and fig tree living in peace and unafraid. A homeland for each and every one of us between the mountains and the sea. A multilingual, multireligious, many-colored and -peopled land where the orange tree blooms for all. I will not surrender this vision for any lesser compromise.

Love & Passion for Motherland is Natural Serving with Respect to Home Land is Necessary

Nezhdanov's heart began to beat violently and he lowered his eyes involuntarily. This girl, who had fallen in love with a homeless wretch like him, who trusted him, who was ready to follow him, to go with him towards one and the same goal — this wonderful girl — Marianna — at that moment was, for Nezhdanov, the embodiment of everything good and just on earth; the embodiment of that love, that of a family, sister or wife, which he had not experienced; the embodiment of homeland, happiness, struggle and freedom.

Never complete. Never whole. White skin and an African soul.

Perdón si cuando quiero contar mi vida es tierra lo que cuento. Esta es la tierra. Crece en tu sangre y creces. Si se apaga en tu sangre tú te apagas.

Nostalgia is not linked only with being away from one's homeland, as one may feel nostalgia , too, inside his own homeland.

She had seen Southern men, soft voiced and dangerous in the days before the war, reckless and hard in the last despairing days of the fighting. But in the faces of the two men who stared at each other across the candle flame so short a while ago there had been something that was different, something that heartened her but frightened her — fury which could find no words, determination which would stop at nothing. For the first time, she felt a kinship with the people about her, felt one with them in their fears, their bitterness, their determination. No, it wasn’t to be borne! The South was too beautiful a place to be let go without a struggle, too loved to be trampled by Yankees who hated Southerners enough to enjoy grinding them into the dirt, too dear a homeland to be turned over to ignorant people drunk with whisky and freedom. As she thought of Tony’s sudden entrance and swift exit, she felt herself akin to him, for she remembered the old story how her father had left Ireland, left hastily and by night, after a murder which was no murder to him or to his family. Gerald’s blood was in her, violent blood. She remembered her hot joy in shooting the marauding Yankee. Violent blood was in them all, perilously close to the surface, lurking just beneath the kindly courteous exteriors. All of them, all the men she knew, even the drowsy-eyed Ashley and fidgety old Frank, were like that underneath — murderous, violent if the need arose. Even Rhett, conscienceless scamp that he was, had killed a man for being “uppity to a lady.

There is a place for everyone in the world. When you find yours, your heart will call it home. - Kailin Gow, Fearless Fairy Tales Series

So immutably does a human being surrender to the mist of the Motherland! Just as a tooth will not stop aching until the nerve is killed, so is it with us; we shall probably not stop responding to the call of the the Motherland until we swallow arsenic.

The important thing is that I returned with a great yearning for my people in that small village at the bend of the Nile. For seven years I had longed for them, had dreamed of them, and it was an extraordinary moment when I at last found myself standing amongst them. They rejoiced at having me back and made a great fuss, and it was not long before I felt as though a piece of ice were melting inside of me, as though I were some frozen substance on which the sun had shone - that life warmth of the tribe which I had lost for a time in a land 'whose fishes die of the cold'.

There are many sadnesses in the hearts of men who are far away from their countries.

The Politician's goal is to build a fortune, ours is to build our homeland flowering and strong. For her we will work and we will build. For her we will make each Romanian a hero, ready to fight, ready to sacrifice, ready to die.

There Is A Place. There is a place, I want to show you. There is a place, just down the road. There is a place, down by the river. There is a place, that I call home... There is a place, that I would play as a kid. There is a place, that I would walk alone. There is a place, and it's like a sad song. There is a place, that is now long gone... Here is a place, will you come see? This is the place in my mind, I'd like to be. Just open your mind, and think. Is there a place, you would like to be?

There is no other place on this earth where I feel such a strong sense of being a stranger than in my historic homeland.

What amazes me most is that we, as a people, have shared our collective story of being thrown out of our homeland, Palestine, with each other and with many others- actually we have bored the world with this collective story- but somehow the individual Palestinian shies away, or perhaps is too afraid, to share the very personal story of being thrown out of her or his home, living room, or bedroom. These personal stories are seldom told, not even to our own children, perhaps not even to ourselves. I guess the wound remains open.

The sieges of Gvozdansko, Croatia and Alamo, U.S. tell the true stories of small bands of heroes who stood against massive armies to defend their homelands. They echo innate human devotion to the idea of fighting for freedom across the world. Alamo was designate by UNESCO as a World Heritage site in 2015. Gvozdansko deserves more research and the same level of respect and protection for its equal relevance. The Croatian landmark was the site of the pivotal 103-day Battle of Gvozdansko in 1578 against the Ottoman army. Among those who fought and died there were the common miners together with their families.

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 Tejo runs down from Spain And the Tejo goes into the sea in Portugal. Everybody knows that. But not many people know the river of my village And where it comes from And where it’s going. And so, because it belongs to less people, The river of my village is freer and greater.

This Heart at Peace is My Homeland. (Su Shih)

This is our homeland, our life, and since we don't have another one, we will fight for it until the very end and we will never give it up.

Una tierra que no me garantiza el pan no puede ser mi tierra.

And how the government communicates about homeland security is central to how the public responds.

A long time ago, I read in a book that a woman's homeland is wherever she fell in love.

It is a well-known fact that we always recognize our homeland at the moment we are about to lose it.

Instead of a homeland I hold the metamorphoses of the world.

It is sweet and right to die for the homeland, but it is sweeter to live for the homeland, and the sweetest to drink for it. Therefore, let us drink to the health of the homeland.

My homeland is the portuguese language.

Our number one responsibility is to protect the homeland.

Our power lies in our love of our homelands.

My homeland is not a suitcase, and I am no traveller

To an old man any place that's warm is homeland.

This is my homeland no one can kick me out.

The South Downs of England reminded me a bit of my Old Virginia homeland.

For years I've been searching for a homeland, finally I found it in you..

When making your ass, always draw the shape of Africa. Or as Latrice would say, the homeland.

But, you will say, what a dreadful person you are, with your impossible religious notions and idiotic scruples. If my ideas are impossible or idiotic then I would like nothing better than to be rid of them. But this is roughly the way I actually see things. In Le philosophe sous les toits by Souvestre you can read what a man of the people, a simple craftsman, pitiful if you will, thinks of his country: ‘Tu n’as peut-être jamais pensé á ce que c’est la patrie, reprit-il, en me posant une main sur l’épaule; c’est tout ce qui t’entoure, tout ce qui t’a élevé et nourri, tout ce que tu as aimé. Cette campagne que tu vois, ces maisons, ces arbres, ces jeunes filles qui passent lá en riant, c’est la patrie! Les lois qui te protégent, le pain qui paye ton travail, les paroles que tu échanges, la joie et la tristesse qui te viennent des hommes et des choses parmi lesquels tu vis, c’est la patrie! La petite chambre oú tu as autrefois vu ta mere, les souvenirs qu’elle t’a laisses, la terre oú elle repose, c’est la patrie! Tu la vois, tu la respires partout! Figure toi, tes droits et tes devoirs, tes affections et tes besoins, tes souvenirs et ta reconnaissance, réunis tout ça sous un seul nom et ce nom sera la patrie.

A society which devastates its homelands’ nature no more has the right to live in that territories!

For what is life but a succession of change; of one thing after another; painful beginnings, fearful setting out into the unknown, leaving what we are for what we have not yet become. We sail forth boldly, keeping a steady keel and a keen eye on the horizon, to reach islands, land whose fragrance we sniff at at the edge of our dreams; and so we sail on, hoping that the next landfall will be our own bit of earth.

He’d lived in the desert all his life, and he loved it. He was its child. It was his home.

He thought often of the land from which he came, How that whole country was a melon, pink If seen rightly and yet a possible red.

However she redefined herself, that part of one that made for the core of the self, that part that we think of as the ultimate, inner being—that was ineradicable Scottish. That part spoke with a Scottish voice; that part looked out through Scottish eyes; and it was that part that now welled within her as she gazed out through the window of the descending plane and saw below her the rolling Borders hills…

Io incomincio a capirlo, la patria non è solo una terra, un paesaggio, una famiglia, la patria è soprattutto una lingua.