Best 12501 quotes in «home quotes» category

The more love and support your child receives, the richer his or her life becomes, and nurses can certainly add to the circle of love surrounding your child.

the more you learn about the world, the more things you need a home to be in order to call it a home.

The most dangerous place for your life is in your home, as you probably know. Most people are killed by family or those they are relatively close to. Refuges for women are important to deal with this. But in the end there are certain risks you take – when you walk in the streets you might be hit by a car.

The most luxurious home is the most peaceful one.

Then a calm fell upon him. The gushing began from all sorts of places, all over his body. He heard pleasurable little giggles on the outer edges of his mind, in the dark creases behind his thoughts. He felt good, better than he’d felt in years. As if he were inside a huge embrace. And he felt as if he had finally reached the right place, his home, his motherland.

Then I probably fainted. The woman at the registration desk managed to put on a sympathetic expression afterward, as if she wanted to ask, "What are you going to do now?" I told her not to worry, I was really leaving, I was going home. But go home where? Without my children I no longer had a home.

The night, cold and silent, Held a warmth and sound That echoed through my thoughts. It wasn’t deafening as it crashed All around, only mildly amusing. The shadows devoured the light Which gracefully enhanced Their deep rich darkness. The world circled and danced, Leapt and ran, swimming Throughout the witching hour.

The now reality is our only home, where everything already is. There is no other home we came from, and we might think we shall return to.

Then where is home, Johannes?" He looks at the maps on his wall. "I don't know," He says. "Where comfort is. And that is hard to find.

Then, who is Matilda?' I asked. Toby tilted his cup and poked at the slush with his straw. 'I suppose Matilda's the girl who felt like home.

The official erasure of any existence before enslavement – as if black Americans did not exist before the yolk and the chains and whip – has always created a passion for us. Black people need to find out. We have to find out Who We Are and Where We Come From.

The one plus side to demonic infestation is that children cannot be harmed by a demon. The sanctified aura of a child somehow repels the demon and they can only oppress them if the parent makes a contract allowing them to do so. Because they can be very clever in tricking people into agreeing to additional contracts, it is important to never converse with a demon. Either call in a priest or move out as soon as possible.

The old you has been left behind to leave place for the new you. And it will be a new you that your new friends will admire, that your old friends will struggle to understand and that your true friends will learn to embrace.

The only place I ever felt at home was with you. There isn’t a place for me anywhere anymore… I’ve been evicted.

The only sacred home, you can live lies in your pure heart.

The only thing that gave me comfort in the attic was thinking about my family. Now I'm home, but it's not the home I imagined. Not the family I imagined. I'd convinced myself that they'd continued on with their happy, carefree lives without me, that they were doing it double, because I couldn't do it at all. I was wrong.

The only way to learn who you are is to leave home.

The overarching narrative of the Bible is that of humanity searching for 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. It was very far inland that I caught the first smell of the Pacific. When one has been long at sea, the smell of land reaches far out to greet one. And the same it true when one has been long inland.

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.

The pages continue to turn, and every day I'm a little older, hopefully a little wiser and a lot more grateful. Do I have regrets? I have a few - but not as many as you might think. If it hadn't been for the darkness, I never would have known the light. In life we all take different paths, some more difficult than others, but in the end, all that matters is whether or not they lead us home.

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

The place I like best in this world is the kitchen. No matter where it is, no matter what kind, if it’s a kitchen, if it’s a place where they make food, it’s fine with me. Ideally it should be well broken in. Lots of tea towels, dry and immaculate. Where tile catching the light (ting! Ting!)

The place had that strange unfurnished cleanliness that lonely houses sometimes have.

The principle of neighborhood at home always implies the principle of charity abroad. (pg. 260, The Idea of a Local Economy)

There are times when you are home to yourself and you long for company.

The realization that we were so near to victory made life become very dear to me. I felt near home!

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

There are times when a time from my childhood comes to me, swirls around me, teases me as I try to catch the memory in my hands, as I try to catch the scents, the sounds, the warmth of the sun on my young face. In bare feet, I reach for it, the memory that is. I reach for summer nights, playing chase, reach across a thousand miles to the comfort of my father’s voice, to the rush of heat when my mother opens the oven to check on the baking, reach toward the rush of laughter, toward home, toward the glory days of my youth. The only way to catch an elusive memory is to open my heart and swallow it whole. When I die, I’ll be stuffed full of memories, too many to fit into a casket.

The power of our country relies on the character that comes out of each of our homes.

There are times when a day from my childhood comes to me, swirls around me, teases me as I try to catch the memory in my hands, as I try to catch the scents, the sounds, the warmth of the sun on my young face. In bare feet, I reach for it, the memory that is. I reach for summer nights, playing chase, reach across a thousand miles to the comfort of my father’s voice, to the rush of heat when my mother opens the oven to check on the baking, reach toward the rush of laughter, toward home, toward the glory days of my youth. The only way to catch an elusive memory is to open my heart and swallow it whole. When I die, I’ll be stuffed full of memories, too many to fit into a casket.

There had only ever been two roads home: there was the long road and there was the sea road, and tonight I would take the sea road.

There is a certain loveliness, I think, to performing deep cleaning in one’s underwear on a beautiful summer day.

There is a quiet room inside of me. Where I kept the thought of you so alive. In all of my phases that’s the only place where my soul would rather be. And that’s where I bring my dead roses back to life. In that room, there is nothing to hear But a love song of free birds. In that room there is nothing to feel But their flipping wings flying through my chest. For this room has always been the peace that never fails to end my wars. And it will always be the reason why I’ve never looked for home in others, as long as the warmest and safest home is there ; Inside of me ….

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

There is no Better place like Home till we find the right One

There is no ‘back’ for me. My home is gone.” “What do you mean ‘gone’?” “Changed. Time makes us all homeless —eventually.

there is you and you. this is a relationship. this is the most important relationship. - home

There is one family : Mankind There is one religion : Humanity There is one home : Earth

There ought to be a home for children to come to,—and their children,—a central place, to which they could always bring their joys and sorrows,—an old familiar place for them to return to on Sundays and Christmases. An old home ought always to stand like a mother with open arms. It ought to be here waiting for the children to come to it,—like homing pigeons.

There it is." And he watched with now-gentle sorrow and now-quick delight, and at last quiet acceptance as all the bits and pieces of his house mixed, stirred, settled, poised, and ran steadily again. "The Happiness Machine," he said. "The Happiness Machine.

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.

There's been a lot to get used to here." Esther laughed. "Isn't that the truth. I don't know if you ever get used to it really. It just gets in your blood so that you can't stand to be anywhere else.

The residents blamed the "Gahmen", naturally. Since the explosion of social media, those "Gahmen" guys have been blamed for everything from HDB flat prices to the price of oil, climate change, the shortage of Hello Kitty dolls and kids not clearing their trays away at hawker centres.

There's no place like home. No place safer. No place scarier.

there was a time when this home was her domain. Sometimes she felt proud of it, sometimes she felt tied to it, but whether it was a burden or a blessing, it was hers to keep. She’d known better than anyone what this house needed; lately it’d become one of the few aspects of her life she could control. there is no corner, no ridge along the steps or crack along the wall, that she doesn’t know like her own body. the house may never have been the sanctuary she’d always dreamed of, but at least it carried no surprises. It was comfortable.

There were three people in my home and I was the only one showing Electromagnetic Hypersensitivity and reactivity to the radio frequency transmitting utility meters. For these reasons I did not shield my home and took the route of adapting my body to the toxic electromagnetic environment.

The rising wave of nostalgia and an increasing interest in heritage sites and historic buildings is perhaps not only a sense of yearning for a lost Singapore, but also the recognition that neither 1959 nor 1965 marked Year One (...) In all the campaigns and features on Singapore's 50th anniversary that I've come across, the Kranji War Memorial was never mentioned. It just doesn't fit the slender narrative. That's such a shame because the cemetery is a fitting, dignified tribute to thousands of Singapore heroes, both local and foreign.

The road to home is when we find our hearts filled with the stories of our people.

There’s a reason you don’t have pictures of your work area at sweet home.