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.

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 long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.

I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.

If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the read more

If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.

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.

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.

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 a machine for living in.

A house is a machine for living in.