Best 12501 quotes in «home quotes» category

I want you here. I want you in my home, my bed, my life,” he murmured, the smooth out of his voice, it was low and so rough with sex and emotion, it was abrasive, scoring through me. “Baby –” “I want your clothes in my closet. I wanna hear your voice in my house when you’re talkin’ on the phone. I want you sittin’ beside me when we’re watchin’ TV. I want shit you like in my fridge. I want “your razors in my shower. I want my roof over your head. Your car in my garage. I want to give you what I should have been giving you for sixteen years. As good as you deserve. A showplace. A place where I can make you happy.” God. He was killing me. “Creed, let me –” He didn’t let me finish. He pressed on, driving in, our bodies jolting with his thrusts, his voice harsh in my ear. “Give me that, Sylvie. Give me that and, swear to God, I’ll give you everything.” “I –” His head came up, his cock drove deep and stayed planted and his eyes burned into mine. “All I’ll ask. All I’ll ever ask. You give me that and you got a lifetime of nothin’ but take.

I was a tourist in a bizarre land. I was home.

I was always a stranger at home, in all the places I ever lived.

I was not merely cleaning an oven; I was improving the world.

I was moving forward into space, but i would never come home again

I was only going to stay six months. I stayed three years, and I never stopped thinking about leaving. But when I left, I left my entire life behind. I have to explain to you why I no longer live in New York, but first I have to explain to myself why I stayed so long.

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.

I was thinking of Cambridge, and then I got a bit homesick for a minute, 'cause I never been this far away from home before. But the I remember you're here, and now I'm not homesick no more.

I went searching in a foreign land and found my way home.

I will miss my chest exploding you coming home late not turning on the light always waking me up I will miss the sudden burst of safety when you look at me or hold my hand or say something like ”let’s go home” I will miss the years I lost on something or someone. The pieces didn’t fit, shaped wrong the timing slightly off. I loved you like I always will.

I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I'm born to leave.

I will stand beside you through all of this,' she said when she could finally speak. “And welcome you home with gladness when it’s over, and you return triumphant.

I will take you home, his lord had said. Home. He held to that word, as a man holds to a rope in a raging sea.

I wonder if the real measure of "home" is the degree to which you can leave it alone. Maybe appreciating a house means knowing when to stop decorating. Maybe you've never really lived there until you've thrown its broken pieces in the garbage. Maybe learning how to be out in the big world isn't the epic journey everyone thinks it is. Maybe that's actually the easy part. The hard part is what's right in front of you. The hard part is learning how to hold the title to your very existence, to own not only property, but also your life. The hard part is learning not just how to be but mastering the nearly impossible art of how to be at home.

I wonder if you would come and sleep in the night with me. And talk.

Listen, whatever you see and love— that’s where you are.

Long has been this road called life. Every time you venture out in this road, remember. Home is within. Home is in you.

London was one of the worst places to have a bad day and one of the best places to have a good day

Love alone can make a human abandon his heart and home, and love for a handsome fisherman alone can separate a small mermaid from the sea to the point of scooting alone an dry rocky terrain and ignoring the pain and suffering of the land.

Love does not pay attention to timetables or knock when it is convenient for you. True love shows up unexpectedly, bags fully packed, daring you to offer it a place to stay.

Love is home for it is who we are.

Love is not supposed to keep you awake at night worrying if you’re good enough. It’s supposed to make you looking forward to wake up the next morning; telling the whole world how beautifully you’re loved And that you’re ready to go through this life no matter how hard it may get; because darling you have always been enough and you simply deserve the world ….

Love is home for we are home in Love.

Love; so here then, we all are, home at last.

Love makes you feel at home in existence.

Love is when two (or more) hearts build a safe emotional, mental, and spiritual home that will stand strong no matter how much anyone changes on the inside or the outside. It demands only one things and expects only one thing: that each person be his or her own true self.

Love is when you have not been home for three months and call up home and your daughter picks up the phone and says "Papa, I love you!

Low self-esteem is no better home to take a refuge. It does not keep you comforted from any danger; it keeps you confined away from your real belongings!

Love your home and it will love you back. This is good feng shui

Lucy settled into August's kitchen as if they were a family.

Madness is like an alternative residence. When sanity chases you out of home, take shelter in madness.

Maddie breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of breakfast and dish soap, clean laundry and wood floors, sunshine and a room filled with love. It smelled like home.

Make your habits your beloved home.

Make your heart the most beautiful home.

Making a beautiful, happy home is not about what we don't have or what we want to buy. It's all about what we do have, and how incredibly precious it all is. It's about how we spend the days we're given with this family of ours, and making the home we share a place our kids will love to describe to our grandchildren. It's about making our kids' memories delightful.

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.

Making a home is hard work, and for some reason it's underappreciated. It's way to make sense of things.

Make your heart, your dearest home.

Many people live by approval. They often go to other people's homes; while their own is on dump alert; the houses of the others are in derision for waste.

Many homes are on the rocks today because God has been left out of the domestic picture. With the clash of personalities in a domestic pattern, there must be an integrating force, and the living God is that Force!

Maria cries unashamedly on my shoulder while I whisper and pet her cheek, but Anastasia grips my other hand and stares fiercely back at our Alexander Palace with her wet blue eyes until it is no more than a lemon-colored speck against the sunrise.

Mapmaking: Imagine whole regions of your future where anywhere might become home.

Maybe I live in the gates that lead to outbound international flights. Maybe that is home. And do I feel more comfortable at the departures or at the arrivals?

Maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when you’re at your worst.

Maybe home is something we have to make, and remake, over and over. But it's hard to make things when you're afraid―or you're certain—that they'll just be broken.

Maybe, in the end, a home is a place where you have no other choice but to stay.

Maybe my guard was up all the time and she was reacting to that. But I wish she had seen through it and I wish that once, just once, I had told her how I feel. That I feel safer when she is around. Sometimes I had tested her, wanting so desperately for her to let me down so then I would have an excuse to walk away. But she never did. I wish I could tell her it breaks my heart that I miss her more than I ever missed my mother and that the thing that frightens me the most about next October when I graduate is not that I won't have home, but that I won't have her.

Maybe this isn't home, nor ever was- maybe home is where I have to go tonight. Home is the place where when you go there, you have to finally face the thing in the dark.

...maybe you think up North is way different from down South. Don't believe it and don't count on it. Custom is just as real as law and can be just as dangerous.

Moments later, I was climbing nervously into the back of the car. The driver wore the archetypal expression of an antagonist. No words were exchanged beyond the brief lines uttered to this nameless stranger, whose inclinations remained unclear. The car sped along empty roads and traversed dingy alleyways. Music blared from its speakers. I did not remember exhaling throughout the entire journey.