The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and read more

The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that
grovel--
Folks prefer in fact a hovel read more

I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that
grovel--
Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble halls.

Home is the girl's prison and the woman's workhouse.

Home is the girl's prison and the woman's workhouse.

My house, my house, though thou art small, thou art to me the
Escuriall.

My house, my house, though thou art small, thou art to me the
Escuriall.

When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that read more

When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.

Where thou art, that is home.

Where thou art, that is home.

Old homes! old hearts! Upon my soul forever
Their peace and gladness lie like tears and laughter.

Old homes! old hearts! Upon my soul forever
Their peace and gladness lie like tears and laughter.

There is no place more delightful than one's own fireside.
[Lat., Nullus est locus domestica sede jucundior.]

There is no place more delightful than one's own fireside.
[Lat., Nullus est locus domestica sede jucundior.]

When the hornet hangs in the holly hock,
And the brown bee drones i' the rose,
And read more

When the hornet hangs in the holly hock,
And the brown bee drones i' 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!