Liz Murray Quotes

I do have a sense of displacement as constant instability - the uninterrupted existence of everything that I love and care about is not guaranteed at all. I wait for catastrophes.

When I was 5, some financial things happened, and I moved seven times in a year. We moved from apartment to apartment, sometimes living with friends. My mom would always say, 'Don't get comfortable, because we may not be here long.'

The actual thought of not really having a home was, for me, very depressing, and it was something that I was dealing with for quite some time.

For many years, I didn't have a home.

As a child I had dealt with a lot of loss and grief. I was constantly losing my parents, losing my home, constantly moving around, living with this stranger, that stepfather, or whatever.

It was only for two years, and I jumped from family to family. It's very scary.

My folks were so worried about what they were going to do. All they can take was what they could carry with their hands. What they had for twenty-five years of building their business was going to go out the door, or they're going to lose it.

There were evictions that I saw that I know I'll never forget. In one case, the sheriff and the movers came up on a house full of children. The mom had passed away, and the children had just gone on living there. And the sheriff executed the eviction order - moved the kids' stuff out on the street on a cold, rainy day.

You lose your home, you lose your community, you lose your school, you lose your stuff.

I watched my parents lose everything, from a house to birth certificates. We were homeless for about six months, then we stayed in Baltimore, and my parents got jobs.

Anyone can lose their home and find their life is turned upside down.

Growing up, I never really felt like anything was my own. I moved a lot, and I never belonged anywhere.

I'm reaching for emotion and drama, the drama of the everyday: what happens when you don't have shelter, food, and clothing. There are some stakes. If you're displaced or evicted, there's a suspense: How will you solve that?

One day you're in. The next day you're out.

When I was 5, 6 - so you know, memories aren't that great - I remember coming home and I remember seeing all of our belongings on the street and a Salvation Army truck picking them up. We got taken to a shelter. And then we moved around a lot, finding places to stay.

We live in a pretty bleak time. I feel that in the air. Everything is uncertain. Everything feels like its on the precipice of some major transformation, whether we like it or not.

When I was growing up, I never felt that I belonged anywhere because we never lived in a house for more than three months. That's all I knew, and that's why I don't really belong anywhere.

I have always felt a little homeless. It's a strange thing.

I'm always afraid someone's going to tap me on the shoulder one day and say, 'Back to North London.'

I am very aware that there are many of you who have friends and loved ones in the areas affected by this storm who have been displaced or who have not yet been accounted for.

My life was a sort of series of random disasters.

I was 21 and homeless - such a broken, lost woman.

The whole life of an American is passed like a game of chance, a revolutionary crisis, or a battle.

I think it is really sad that when people lose their homes they kind of lose their minds too.

I guess because I had such a horrible life growing up, going from place to place not knowing what I was gonna do and ending up being homeless, there was a lot of pain and a lot of anger that was coming out through my guitar playing.