Home Sweet Home Quotes

“He smelled faintly of soap, a little musky, perhaps. Warm wasn't something, I'd ever registered as having a smell before, but that's what David smelled of. Warmth, like he was liquid sunshine or something. Heat and comfort and home.”
― Kylie Scott, Lick

“Home was truly the best place he could possibly be, but, alas, was not an available option.”
― Kenneth Eade, Unreasonable Force

“The key to happiness is under the doorstep rug.”
― Ljupka Cvetanova, The New Land

“Every homeowner deserves a Zen-like area to revitalize, rejuvenate and read.”
― Geralin Thomas, Decluttering Your Home: Tips, Techniques and Trade Secrets

“Hotels are for leaving,
Home is for returning.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Insan Himalayanoğlu: It's Time to Defect

“It is not my wish to stay home so much that I become isolated, but to use the comforting influence of my home to restore and gather myself after each step I take in my expanding ability to participate in the world.”
― Maureen Brady, Daybreak: Meditations for Women Survivors of Sexual Abuse

“Ellie made her way up the familiar twist of Wicker Road. Even with just the porch light on, her house looked inviting and settled. The single oak that took up the majority of her front lawn was already beginning to collect the first measures of snow. She quickly walked up the three steps and went in.
There was nothing grandiose about the place, but it was a perfect fit for Ellie. The house looked a little like an old English cottage. It was tiny, reminding her of a dollhouse. Which suited her perfectly. Any bigger and the place would have echoed, and Ellie would have been aware of how acutely alone she was. She filled the walls with various pieces of artwork, and her queen-sized bed with pillows she made from pieces of vintage fabric. There were two fireplaces and wall-to-wall hardwood floors with perfectly worn-in wainscoting. The back rooms were all windows that could be opened up so it seemed almost a part of the garden. Ellie's study was lined with bookshelves on every wall except the alcove, in front of which she had placed an old secretary. She even had a small balcony off the master that looked over the garden and was a wonderful place to read.”
― Amy S. Foster, When Autumn Leaves

“I am very old,’ he said gravely. He added, as a matter of course: ‘I’m glad to die in Africa.’
'And why?'
'Because this is where mankind began. The cradle of humanity is in Nyasaland. It’s been pretty well proved.’
'Odd reason.’
'One dies better at home.'
'Yet another one, I thought, who’s trying to find a home on earth.”
― Romain Gary, The Roots of Heaven

“She could picture it now, a huge stack of fluffy pumpkin waffles with maple syrup and spiced cinnamon butter, the perfect breakfast for fall. Something that tasted like crisp, cool air and golden-orange leaves and bundling up in her favorite sweater. Something that tasted like home.”
― Stephanie Kate Strohm, Love à la Mode

“Warwickshire is the Monarch of all Shires”
― Lavinia Valeriana, Adrift in Acheron

“Her eyes watered triumphantly, and she let her gaze drop back towards the house: the window of her bedroom, the Michaelmas daisy she and Ma had planted over the poor, dead body of Constable the cat, the chink in the bricks where, embarrassingly, she used to leave notes for the fairies.
There were faint memories of a time before, of being a very small child, collecting winkles from a pool by the seashore, of dining each night in the front room of her grandmother's seaside boardinghouse, but they were like a dream. The farmhouse was the only home she'd ever known. And although she didn't want a matching armchair of her own, she liked seeing her parents in theirs each night, knowing as she feel asleep that they were murmuring together on the other side of the thin wall, that she only had to reach out an arm to bother one of her sisters.
She would miss them when she went.
Laurel blinked. She would miss them. The certainty was swift and heavy. It sat in her stomach like a stone. They borrowed her clothes, broke her lipsticks, scratched her records, but she would miss them. The noise and heat of them, the movement and squabbles and crushing joy. They were like a litter of puppies, tumbling together in their shared bedroom. They overwhelmed outsiders and this pleased them. They were the Nicolson girls, Laurel, Rose, Iris, and Daphne; a garden of daughters, as Daddy rhapsodized when he'd had a pint too many. Unholy terrors, as Grandma proclaimed after their holiday visits.”
― Kate Morton, The Secret Keeper

“Home sweet home
Home sweet home
It sure feels good to be
home again.

Been away for so long,
Almost forget what coming
home feels like.
Down the street, I am almost there.
The place I know best.
The place I put above all else,
There’s no place I’d rather be.
Sweet girl like you.
The warm embrace of being missed.

After so many miles the end
is drawing near.
Home sweet home
Home sweet home.
Soon as I am there, I’ll kiss the welcome
mat of your feet &
recline deep in the chair of your arms.
Soon as I am there I’ll sink into comfort,
I’ll pour me a glass filled in your kiss.
The warm embrace of being missed.
It sure feels good to be home again.
Dozing off fast asleep at home.
Safe & sound in your arms”
― Kewayne Wadley

“I create a home that is a safe and nurturing place for me, where I am free to gather myself.”
― Maureen Brady, Daybreak: Meditations for Women Survivors of Sexual Abuse

“Some people deserve a second chance, no matter how long you've been apart.”
― Jane Costello, The Love Shack

“Home: a loaded term. What is it? They say home is where the heart is; it’s sweet, where we go for Christmas, if only in our dreams.”
― A.D. Aliwat, In Limbo

“Home is a people, not a place.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Her Insan Ailem: Everyone is Family, Everywhere is Home

“Nature is the only home I know.
Nature is the only home there is.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Night of a Thousand Thoughts

“She leaned toward the door, breathing in deeply, rejoicing in the moldy scent of death and decay that lingered on the other side. Ah, home, she thought as she dove headfirst into the abyss.
After tumbling through blackness, she arrived just like before, this time plopping down in a nice thick pile of fallen leaves. She laughed in delight as she rolled in the pile for a moment, enjoying the feeling of fall tickling her cloth skin.”
― Mari Mancusi, Sally's Lament

“As Dina walked down the hall, the floorboards seamlessly transformed into blue and white tiles beneath her feet. She found herself standing in the heart of the house: a riad with a bubbling mosaic fountain, vines twisting up the walls and, above her, fuchsias blooming in terra-cotta pots and miniature date trees coiling around the pillars. It was more of a garden than a room, really. The ceiling was open to the night sky, burnished stars in an inky darkness.
It wasn't the real sky of course, but the house's magic was powerful. Dina could even hear crickets chirping in the distance and the cinnamon scent of the earth in Khemisset, where her mother had grown up. She exhaled deeply, the feeling of being home sinking into her bones.”
― Nadia El-Fassi, Best Hex Ever

“No more foxglove. We promise." Celia put up her hand as if she was making a pledge.
"Okay. Good." Not poisoning men seemed like a smart plan.
"We can always plant something else if we need it." Gram dropped that then started toward the house.
"Gram."
"If men behave they have nothing to worry about." She gestured for me to follow her. "Come on. You know I like to eat at six."
I watched Gram and Celia walk away from this perfectly normal conversation. Heard them arguing about the superiority of green beans over broccoli as a side dish. Smelled the lemony punch of magnolias in the yard. Thought about having a predinner doughnut.
Poison or not, it was good to be home.”
― HelenKay Dimon, The Usual Family Mayhem