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

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

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.

Home is home, though it be never so homely.

Home is home, though it be never so homely.

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.

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.

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.

I am far frae my hame, an' i'm weary aften whiles,
For the longed-for hame-bringing an' my Father's welcome read more

I am far frae my hame, an' i'm weary aften whiles,
For the longed-for hame-bringing an' my Father's welcome smiles.

Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to

Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to