#m

Somebody left a pair of baby shoes on a bench. I would have taken them home, if only they weren’t too big for my feet.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#baby-shoes #bench #bizarre #feet #funny

Hasta el océano de las lágrimas tiene otra orilla; si así no fuera, nadie habría llorado nunca ↗

— Rabindranath Tagore

#tagore #home

Out here, everything was open, and the weather was the fabric of the world. ↗

— Erin Mckittrick

#wilderness #home

You should have heard the old men cry You should have heard the biddies When that sad stranger rasied his flute And piped away the kiddies. Katy, Tommy, Meg, and Bob Followed skipping gailey Red-haired Ruth, my brother Ron, And little crippled Bailey Jon and Nils and Cousin Claire Dancin', spinnin', turnin' 'Cross the hills to god knows where- They never came returnin'. 'Cross the hills to god know where The piper pranced a leadin'. Each child in Hamlin town but me And I stayed home unheedin'. My papa says that I was blest For if that music fond me I'd be witch-cast like all the rest. This town grows old around me. I cannot say I did not hear That sound so hauntin' hollow. I heard, I heard, I heard it clear... I was afraid to follow. ↗

— Shel Silverstein

#home

Mientras estemos en llamas, sepamos arder y bullir ↗

— Rabindranath Tagore

#tagore #home

The store customer, who comes home with a package under his arm has learned nothing, except that a ten dollar bill is a source of power in the market place. The man or woman who has converted material into needed products via tools and skills has matured in the process. ↗

— Helen Nearing

#home

It worries me I may tell you. I sit at home every night thinking about it and smoking endless cigarettes. If you call at my place any night after seven I will show you one of them. Quite circular. Like a hoop. ↗

— Flann O'Brien

#home

Home. One place is just like another, really. Maybe not. But truth is it's all just rock and dirt and people are roughly the same. I was born up there but I'm no stranger here. Have always felt at home everywhere, even in Virginia, where they hate me. Everywhere you go there's nothing but the same rock and dirt and houses and people and deer and birds. They give it all names, but I'm at home everywhere. Odd thing: unpatriotic. I was at home in England. I would be at home in the desert. In Afghanistan or far Typee. All mine, it all belongs to me. My world. ↗

— Michael Shaara

#home

But where would she go, Raven wondered. Where was home now that Drew was her heart? ↗

— J.K. Hogan

#home

...the heart is a vessel not large enough to sustain love. Kneeling is the proper position for discovering love again. ↗

— Karen Burton Mains

#home