Home Quotes - Page 56

In the mind of a woman for whom no place is home the thought of an end to all flight is unbearable.

Despite official drivel about clean bombs and tactical nuclear weapons, anyone who can read a newspaper or listen to a radio knows that some of us mortals have the power to destroy the human race and man's home on earth. We need not even make war; only by preparing, by playing with our new weapons, we poison the air, the water, the soil of our plants, damage the health of the living, and weaken the chances of the newborn.

Do your homework and know your business better than anyone. Otherwise, someone who knows more and works harder will kick your ass.

I'm opposed to wearing headscarves in public places. That's not France. There's something I just don't understand: the people who come to France, why would they want to change France, to live in France the same way they lived back home?

Mainiacs away from Maine are truly displaced persons, only half alive, only half aware of their immediate surroundings. Their inner attention is always preoccupied and pre-empted by the tiny pinpoint on the face of the globe called Down East. They try to live not in such a manner that they will eventually be welcomed into Paradise, but only so that someday they can go home to Maine.

We must restore the sacredness of the family as a bedrock of humane values everywhere, in peace as well as in war.

I listen to feminists and all these radical gals - most of them are failures. They've blown it. Some of them have been married, but they married some Casper Milquetoast who asked permission to go to the bathroom. These women just need a man in the house. That's all they need. Most of the feminists need a man to tell them what time of day it is and to lead them home. And they blew it and they're mad at all men. Feminists hate men. They're sexist. They hate men - that's their problem.

Our God, our help in ages past,Our hope for years to come,Our shelter from the stormy blast,And our eternal home.

I'm a very private person. I like staying home and doing my stuff. I hate people invading on my privacy. I hate talking about my private life.

When a good man lends himself to the advocacy of slavery, he must, at least for a time, feel himself to be any where but at home, amongst his new thoughts, doctrines, and modes of reasoning.

I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Honey if you stay you'll be forgiven, nothing you can say will set me going home.

I visited Eduardo Miura’s ranch in Seville where he raised bulls for bullfighting, and I was so impressed that by the time I got home I had already selected my future emblem.

Often I have heard the taunt that suffragists are women who have failed to find any normal outlet for their emotions, and are therefore soured and disappointed beings. This is probably not true of any suffragist, and it is most certainly not true of me. My home life and relations have been as nearly ideal as possible in this imperfect world.

The face of a golden retriever feels like home.

A youth, when at home, should be filial, and, abroad, respectful to his elders.

There's no reason someone who has fought for their country should be homeless of jobless.

I love being at home and cooking and baking.

I love talking to people, but what I really love is to feel you're doing something instead of sitting home and twiddling your thumbs.

But friends, those I wanted to please? There are so few, so few... and you're one of them. You... because you have such a gift for life. You grab hold of it with both hands. You move, you dance, you know how to make the rain and the sunshine in a home. You have this incredible gift for making people around you happy. You're so at ease, so at ease on this little planet.

Holy Spirit, take the Word of truth as we find it in the Scriptures and bring it home to our lives.

One writes to make a home for oneself, on paper, in time, in others' minds.

Chase your dreams but always know the road that will lead you home again.

A fan sent me a letter and a $10 bill. It's a short letter - all she said was, 'Hey, since it's harder for you to go out these days without getting photographed, here $10 for a pizza.' I was like, 'Aww, she sent me money for a pizza so I could eat at home!'

It's hard to be depressed around a ukulele. You just pick it up and you're halfway home.

Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing!