#home

In the molten fire where he lay he could watch the slow machinations of eternity, the cosmic miracle of each second being born, eggshaped, silverplated, phallic, time thrusting itself gleaming through the worn and worthless husk of the microsecond previous, halting, beginning to show the slow and infinitesimal accreations of decay in the clocking away of life in a mechanism encoded at the moment of conception, withering, shunted aside by time's next orgasmic thrust, and all to the beating of some galactic heart, to voices, a madman's mutterings from a snare in the web of the world. ↗

— William Gay

#poetic #southern-gothic #home

Just seeing her again, even from a distance, reminds meof why I crave to be around her so much. It’s only been a few days, but since the moment I met her, no matter where I am, I’m constantly wondering about her. My attention is constantly homed in on her like I’m a compass and she’s my North. ↗

— Colleen Hoover

#dean-holder #losing-hope #sky-davis #home

Aw, man. I’d just shot an angel in the face.I made my way into the foyer and sat down on the stairs. I glanced up at the big old grandfather clock. It was going on ten. My folks would be home soon. “How was your evening, honey?” “Killed an angel.” “Well, isn’t that nice.” That wasn’t happening. Daddy never liked guns in the first place, Mother just pretended to. I was so grounded. ↗

— Adrienne Kress

#parents #riley #shotgun #home

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Danika!” she said bracingly. “One thing at a time. Those home things can be wrong! Don’t panic until it’s time to panic! Maybe you’re just dying of some horrible disease and you aren’t even pregnant at all? ↗

— Madelaine Montague

#pregnant #home

She considered what had made Denmark home to her anyway. Was it the sense of familiarity? That wherever she went there were echoes of a hundred memories she could pluck from her thoughts? ↗

— Sage Steadman

#nostalgia #home

Beauvoir left their home wanting to call his wife and tell her how much he loved her, and then tell her what he believed in, and his fears and hopes and disappointments. To talk about something real and meaningful. He dialed his cell phone and got her. But the words got caught somewhere south of his throat. Instead he told her the weather had cleared, and she told him about the movie she'd rented. Then they both hung up. ↗

— Louise Penny

#realtionship #sharing #thoughts #home

Spend your free time the way you like, not the way you think you're supposed to. Stay home on New Year's Eve if that's what makes you happy. Skip the committee meeting. Cross the street to avoid making aimless chitchat with random acquaintances. Read. Cook. Run. Write a story. Make a deal with yourself that you'll attend a set number of social events in exchange for not feeling guilty when you beg off. ↗

— Susan Cain

#extrovert #introversion #introvert #home

We need to make books cool again. If you go home with somebody and they don' t have books, don't fuck them. ↗

— John Waters

#home

I had been so mad at him when I left, I'd given them back. All except for the one that stuck to the bottom of the jar. He smiled. "They're at home, waiting." "For what?" His eyes glittered. "That, I cannot say. ↗

— Kiera Cass

#love #home

Back at home, people would have been weeping and doing a lot of very public group hugs. At Wexford, some people just aggressively pretended nothing was happening. ↗

— Maureen Johnson

#england #home