#home

A few minutes later, John got up, put his clothes back on, palmed his liquor bottle, and left. As the door clicked shut, Xhex pulled the duvet over herself. She did nothing to try to control the shakes that rattled her body, and didn't attempt to stop herself from crying. Tears left both of her eyes at the far corners, slipping out and flowing over her temples. Some landed in her ears. Some eased down her neck and were absorbed by the pillow. Others clouded her vision, as if they didn't want to leave home. Feeling ridiculous, she put her hands to her face and captured them as best she could, wiping them on the duvet. She cried for hours. Alone. ↗

— J.R. Ward

#xhex #home

and suddenly I am washed over by a wave of happiness for it, for my little story, because it is a place, a home even, and I can go back to it from wherever I am ↗

— David Grossman

#story #home

Thank-you, son,’ said his father. ‘I want you to know we’re both proud of you. Take care, and keep in touch if you can.’ ‘Or even better, visit!’ said his mother, ‘our home isn’t complete without you! ↗

— Chris Tinniswood

#fantasy #fiction #home

Once the rain starts falling it’s hard to tell it to stop. I guess it stops in its own time. My tears, like the rain, kept falling as I made my way home through blurry vision. In truth it’s difficult to describe a broken heart. All I know is that unimaginable pain centers in your chest and radiates out, this throbbing, sharp ache that causes almost incapacitation. But there’s more than the ache. Denial lodges itself in your throat, and that lump is its own kind of pain. The affliction of heartbreak can also be found in a knot in your stomach. The knot contracts and expands, contracts and expands, until you’re pretty sure you’re not going to be able to hold down the vomit. ↗

— Samantha Young

#home

Master Stuart made his letters into paper darts and launched them page by page from the roof of the house-watching them descend and fade into the green ravine below...Some he saved to trade at school for other artifacts of war sent home by other elder brothers like his own-but only the letters mailed from France were worthy of this exchange. They had to have the smell of fire. ↗

— Timothy Findley

#home

DEDICATED TO: YOU - it has been so long, too long, since you have had a home. ↗

— J.R. Ward

#lover-reborn #home

Opening a present from a live person was scary enough. There was always the chance that the gift might be so wrong, so completely not the kind of thing you liked, that you'd realize they didn't really know you at all. ↗

— Carol Rifka Brunt

#home

The day my mother gave us the keys, she also made me and Greta sign a form so that the bank knew our signatures. To get in we had to show our key and sign something so they would know it was really us. I was worried that my signature wouldn't look the same. I wasn't sure when that thing would happen that made it so you always signed your name exactly the same, but it hadn't happened to me yet. So far I'd only had to sign something three times. Once for a code of conduct for the eighth grade field trip to Philadelphia, once for a pact I made with Beans and Frances Wykoski in fifth grade that we'd never have boyfriends until high school. (Of the three of us, I'm the only one who kept that pact.) ↗

— Carol Rifka Brunt

#humor #musings #truth #home

The government decides to try to increase the middle class by subsidizing things that middle class people have: If middle-class people go to college and own homes, then surely if more people go to college and own homes, we’ll have more middle-class people. But homeownership and college aren’t causes of middle-class status, they’re markers for possessing the kinds of traits — self-discipline, the ability to defer gratification, etc. — that let you enter, and stay, in the middle class. Subsidizing the markers doesn’t produce the traits; if anything, it undermines them. ↗

— Glenn Reynolds

#subsidies #home

Alan:I don’t know what they did with all the crusts from the sandwiches. Maybe they put them out for the birds after everyone had gone home. I hoped so. It’d be a shame to waste them. ↗

— J.L. Merrow

#sweetheart #home