Home is the girl's prison and the woman's workhouse.

Home is the girl's prison and the woman's workhouse.

"Home" is any four walls that enclose the right person.

"Home" is any four walls that enclose the right person.

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.

There's nobody at home
But Jumping Joan,
And father and mother and I.

There's nobody at home
But Jumping Joan,
And father and mother and I.

Where thou art, that is home.

Where thou art, that is home.

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.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
Th' expectant read more

At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
Th' expectant wee-things, toddling, stacher thro'
To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.

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.

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.