#home

For me, walking in a hard Dakota wind can be like staring at the ocean: humbled before its immensity, I also have a sense of being at home on this planet, my blood so like the sea in chemical composition, my every cell partaking of air. I live about as far from the sea as is possible in North America, yet I walk in a turbulent ocean. Maybe that child was right when he told me that the world is upside-down here, and this is where angels drown. ↗

— Kathleen Norris

#humility #north-dakota #south-dakota #wind #home

Home is where the heart is and probably, heart is where the home is. ↗

— m.ralte

#home

After I hit a home run I had a habit of running the bases with my head down. I figured the pitcher already felt bad enough without me showing him up rounding the bases. ↗

— Mickey Mantle

#home

Then I learnt of “white Christmas”, which again I found very peculiar since we always have a white Christmas at home for it never passes by without eating rice. That is our white Christmas. ↗

— Gloria D. Gonsalves

#quotes #home

Then, with the gladness which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to feel, having never believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving Emma, was there so much fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her, that he could stay no longer. He had ridden home through the rain; and had walked up directly after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the discovery. ↗

— Jane Austen

#emma #grateful #knightley #home

Patriotism Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, 'This is my own, my native land!' Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd As home his footsteps he hath turn'd From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung. ↗

— Walter Scott

#patriotism #home

My name it means nothing my fortune is less My future is shrouded in dark wilderness Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on Everything I posessed - Now they are gone Oh where can I go to and what can I do? Nothing can please me only thoughts are of you You just laughed when I begged you to stay I've not stopped crying since you went away The world is a lonely place when you're on your own Guess I will go home - sit down and moan. Crying and thinking is all that I do Memories I have remind me of you ↗

— Black Sabbath

#home

This is what happened when one left one's home - pieces of oneself scattered all over the world, no one place ever completely satisfied, always a nostalgia for the place left behind. Pieces of her in Vietnam, some in this place of bone. She brought the letter to her nose. The smell of Vietnam: a mix of jungle and wetness and spices and rot. A smell she hadn't realized she missed. ↗

— Tatjana Soli

#home

My author role model is Kurata Misako. I want to be rich enough to drive from room to room in my home but also down to earth enough to let squirrels live in my hair. ↗

— Christy Leigh Stewart

#kurata-misako #role-model #role-models #squirrel #home

Ye glow-worms, whose officious flame To wand’ring mowers shows the way, That in the night have lost their aim, And after foolish fires do stray; Your courteous lights in vain you waste, Since Juliana here is come, For she my mind hath so displac’d That I shall never find my home. ↗

— Andrew Marvell

#home