My whinstone house my castle is,
I have my own four walls.

My whinstone house my castle is,
I have my own four walls.

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

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.

At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by read more

At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard,
Displays her cleanly platter on the board.

A comfortable house is a great source of happiness. It ranks immediately after health and a good conscience.

A comfortable house is a great source of happiness. It ranks immediately after health and a good conscience.

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.

Where thou art, that is home.

Where thou art, that is home.

A house is a machine for living in.

A house is a machine for living in.

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.