God begins to paint the clouds in the eastern sky when the mountains butterflies come flying home

To feel your arms around me...to feel your breath on my neck...is pleasure in itself. It is home.

The realization that we were so near to victory made life become very dear to me. I felt near home!

طفولتنا ھي الوطن

The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

Home is a notion that only nations of the homeless fully appreciate and only the uprooted comprehend.

Our house was open to anyone who needed a little extra support or comfort or just a home-cooked meal.

We move much too fast, and too frequently, to pause to savor landscapes or avoid disfiguring clutter.

Happiness is not only a hope, but also in some strange manner a memory ... we are all kings in exile.

In the space, the pause between this breath and the one that follows, you have made a home inside me.

There is no home as comfortable as your father's arms and no bed as soft as your mother's lap.

Sometimes memory is the only gift we give ourselves and the only hope we have of finding our way home.

It was a family joke that Lydia's domestic tendencies were somehow misplaced when she was created.

You can’t go home again” ─ isn’t necessarily that places change but people do.

You don’t have a home until you leave it and then, when you have left it, you never can go back.