You May Also Like / View all maxioms
A man builds a fine house; and now he has a master, and a task for life: he is to read more
A man builds a fine house; and now he has a master, and a task for life: he is to furnish, watch, show it, and keep it in repair, the rest of his days.
No outward doors of a man's house can in general be broken open
to execute any civil process; though read more
No outward doors of a man's house can in general be broken open
to execute any civil process; though in criminal cases the public
safety supersedes the private.
Construed as turf, home just seems a provisional claim, a designation you make upon a place, not one it makes read more
Construed as turf, home just seems a provisional claim, a designation you make upon a place, not one it makes on you. A certain set of buildings, a glimpsed, smudged window-view across a schoolyard, a musty aroma sniffed behind a garage when you were a child, all of which come crowding in upon your latter-day senses -- those are pungent things and vivid, even consoling. But to me they are also inert and nostalgic and unlikely to connect you to the real, to that essence art can sometimes achieve, which is permanence.
A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.
A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.
Be grateful for the home you have, knowing that at this moment, all you have is all you need.
Be grateful for the home you have, knowing that at this moment, all you have is all you need.
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where read more
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where the rug's two-fold use we might display,
By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.
How small of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
read more
How small of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
Our own felicity we make or find.
With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.
What's the good of a home if you are never in it?
What's the good of a home if you are never in it?
And when the day arrives I'll become the sky and I'll become the sea and the sea will come to read more
And when the day arrives I'll become the sky and I'll become the sea and the sea will come to kiss me for I am going home. Nothing can stop me now.
