Best 44 quotes in «coming home quotes» category

You'll leave. And then one day you'll come back, and everything that you once loved about the place will drive you a little bit crazy.

Though a lifetime of listening to the music of the world has passed, even now the tone of the rain on the roof of my home is the sweetest sound I have ever heard.

That was the first growth, the heir of all my minutes, the victim of every ramification- more and more it grew green, and gave too much shelter. And now at my homecoming, the barked elms stand up like sticks along the street. I am a foot taller than when I left, and cannot see the dirt at my feet. Yet sometimes I catch my vague mind circling with a glazed eye for a name without a face, or a face without a name, and at every step, I startle them. They start up, dog-eared, bald as baby birds.

Tidak pernah ada kata salah untuk cinta

To his surprise, Jean kissed him. So often in the past, teasing, she had said she would, one day. Now she did, and it was a quick and fragrant touch to his lips that gave him courage and, even before he started out made him yearn to come back home.

It makes me happy when my sons come home and tell me, 'We bumped into Donatella and she says hi.'

Don't corral me, and I'll always come home. Just let me go out and play during the day.

Having traveled initially to get away, ultimately we travel to come home.

Home is oneness, home is my original nature. It is right here, simply in what is. There is nowhere else I have to go, and nothing else I have to become.

Everyone that I've talked to who's been to space has thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and what you often hear them say is: It was great, but we just had to come home.

I love coming home to somebody, I love being in a relationship.

It's nice when you get to leave and travel and be busy and then come home.

Many go out for wool, and come home shorn themselves.

I would go to school and be American and then come home and be Greek.

Kiss till the cow comes home.

Nature comes home to one most when one is at home. The stranger and traveler finds her a stranger and traveler also.

Nostradamus, who predicted that Billy Bailey would not come home. Never got a dinner!

Now I see that the journey was never meant to lead to some new and improved version of me; that it has always been about coming home to who I already am.

The root of all desires is the one desire: to come home, to be at peace.

The greatest flight I've ever flown was coming home.

There is a coming home. A home base. Psychedelics help you reconnect with home.

There is no feeling like coming home after danger.

Participating in Eurovision felt like coming home

The chickens have come home to roast.

The thrill of coming home has never changed.

Yet still the time:- 'It's so nice to come home'.

Wherever God spends the day, He comes home to sleep in Rwanda.

A man or woman who travels in the end will never be kept. But if you understand that person well enough, they’ll always be by your side. They might have forgotten where their home is in this world - but you might just make them feel like the closest thing to feeling at home. And while they’ll be leaving country after country, this is the way you will never leave their heart.

All roads lead home as home is where the heart is. So Love. Simply Love. For love is home to all of us.

Home was truly the best place he could possibly be, but, alas, was not an available option.

Home is where you go to find solace from the ever changing chaos, to find love within the confines of a heartless world, and to be reminded that no matter how far you wander, there will always be something waiting when you return.

Breakfast was the full whammy: eggs, rashers, sausages, black pudding, fried bread, fried tomatoes. This was clearly some kind of statement, but I couldn't work out whether it was See, we're doing just grand without you, or I'm still slaving my fingers to the bone for you even though you don't deserve it, or possibly We'll be even when this lot gives you a heart attack.

I know I have this judgmental side that I'm often fighting against. But today I recognized the depths of my assumptions about people. What I envision is nothing remotely similar to the reality. Humility hurts. Coming home is disturbing.

I am clumsy, drop glasses and get drunk on Monday afternoons. I read Seneca and can recite Shakespeare by heart, but I mess up the laundry, don’t answer my phone and blame the world when something goes wrong. I think I have a dream, but most of the days I’m still sleeping. The grass is cut. It smells like strawberries. Today I finished four books and cleaned my drawers. Do you believe in a God? Can I tell you about Icarus? How he flew too close to the sun? I want to make coming home your favourite part of the day. I want to leave tiny little words lingering in your mind, on nights when you’re far away and can’t sleep. I want to make everything around us beautiful; make small things mean a little more. Make you feel a little more. A little better, a little lighter. The coffee is warm, this cup is yours. I want to be someone you can’t live without. I want to be someone you can’t live without.

...I'd come home but nearly everybody does. It's the ones that don't go home that I feel sorry for, they're not happy.

I hope someday she meets just the right man and has babies - a whole passel of babies, more than I could have - so she understands how it kills me now that she won't let me hug her when she's in obvious distress. (The Life You've Imagined)

It's a thing to see when a boy comes home.

It is a big world, full of things that steal your breath and fill your belly with fire...But where you go when you leave isn't as important as where you go when you come home.

I walked up to the side of the mountain like I used to do when I was a little boy. I looked out over Rainelle and watched it shine. The coal trucks and the logging trucks were still gunning it through town. They were still clear cutting the mountains and cutting the coal from the ground. Then I heard my mother calling and it was like I was a child again.

It was his home now. But it could not be his home till he had gone from it and returned to it. Now he was the Prodigal Son.

I was not descending in a plane, coming Home. I was watching an alien world as it ascended towards me - and one that I could never begin the process of readjusting to, because I knew that I would just as soon be returning to another world, whose normality was as alien to this home as I now was.

No matter who you are or where you are, instinct tells you to go home

Often in the morning he drove a long hour or more to the markets in the city, there to behold what would determine the day’s special. With the crates of fresh selesctions snuggled into his station wagon, his thoughts on the ride back confronted the culinary equivalent of the writer’s blank page. Sometimes his head swirled with exciting ideas; other mornings he was in a panic upon returning with the same old eggplant and squash and zucchini and nothing but the dullness of the word ratatouille standing by to mock him.

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.