You May Also Like / View all maxioms
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.
My whinstone house my castle is,
I have my own four walls.
My whinstone house my castle is,
I have my own four walls.
Christmas... is not an external event at all, but a piece of one's home that one carries in one's heart.
Christmas... is not an external event at all, but a piece of one's home that one carries in one's heart.
Home is the most popular, and will be the most enduring of all earthly establishments.
Home is the most popular, and will be the most enduring of all earthly establishments.
For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest read more
The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.
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.
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.