The home is not the one tame place in the world of adventure. It is the one wild place in the world of rules and set tasks.
At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
Th' expectant wee-things, toddling, stacher thro'
To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.
I want a house that has got over all its troubles; I don't want to spend the rest of my life bringing up a young and inexperienced house.
When the hornet hangs in the hollyhock,
And the brown bee drones in the rose,
And the west is a red-streaked four-o'clock,
And summer is near its close,
It's, Oh!, For the gate, and the locust lane;
And dusk, and dew, and home again!
Old homes! old hearts! Upon my soul forever
Their peace and gladness lie like tears and laughter.
Home is where you hang your architect.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
The chickens have come home to roast.
What the Nation must realize is that the home, when both parents work, is non-existent. Once we have honestly faced that fact, we must act accordingly.
Home is the best place when life begins to wobble.
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head, Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed; Where the rug's two-fold use we might display, By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.
For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
The surroundings householders crave are glorified autobiographies.
The stately Homes of England,How beautiful they stand!Amidst their tall ancestral trees,O'er all the pleasant land.
In the homes of America are born the children of America; and from them go out into American life, American men and women. They go out with the stamp of these homes upon them; and only as these homes are what they should be, will they be what they should be.
There's no place like home, there's no place like home
Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.
You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right.
Where is home? Home is where the heart can laugh without shyness. Home is where the heart's tears can dry at their own pace.
Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room.
Many a man who pays rent all his life owns his own home; and many a family has successfully saved for a home only to find itself at last with nothing but a house.
In the matter of furnishing, I find a certain absence of ugliness far worse than ugliness.
Going home must be like going to render an account.
Human beings are the only creatures on earth that allow their children to come back home.
The fellow that owns his own home is always just coming out of a hardware store.
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