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Go big or go home. Because it's true. What do you have to lose?
Go big or go home. Because it's true. What do you have to lose?
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered read more
Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.
When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that read more
When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.
When the hornet hangs in the holly hock,
And the brown bee drones i' the rose,
And read more
When the hornet hangs in the holly hock,
And the brown bee drones i' the rose,
And the west is a red-streaked four-o'clock,
And summer is near its close--
It's--Oh, for the gate, and the locust lane;
And dusk, and dew, and home again!
The strength of a nation derives from the integrity of the home.
The strength of a nation derives from the integrity of the home.
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.
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.
