Emily Procter Quotes

We want to feel that this earth is all ours, like our parents' house when we were children.

Hotels are nice and everything, but there's no place like home.

Sometimes I come home and still can't believe it's all mine.

No matter how nice a hotel is, it's not home.

I just love to go home, no matter where I am, the most luxurious hotel suite in the world, I love to go home.

I mean I love my family very much, but there is a difference when you're reuniting with your family outside of your hometown and reuniting in the family home.

I love home. I'd rather be at home than anywhere else.

Delhi is my emotional home. I still dream of owning a home there.

But Ship Who Sang remains my favorite story. I really rocked folks with that and still cannot read it aloud myself without weeping at the end.

People ask me all the time, 'Why did I move home?' As well as I can articulate it, that's why. I moved home because I love the community that I come from.

Hotels make me sad. I need a home.

I know people say that all the time, but for me, it's true: Manchester really is my second home.

There's always something about home that's special.

For all the huffing and puffing of the doubters, a home of our own is still the rock on which our hopes are built. Price appreciation aside (and most houses will appreciate, eventually), homeownership is a state of mind. It's your piece of the earth. It's where a family's toes grow roots. It's where the flowers are yours, not God's.

One's home is like a delicious piece of pie you order in a restaurant on a country road one cozy evening - the best piece of pie you have ever eaten in your life - and can never find again. After you leave home, you may find yourself feeling homesick, even if you have a new home that has nicer wallpaper and a more efficient dishwasher than the home in which you grew up.

Home to me is when someone comes up to me and says, "Can I get a selfie?" No. It's where your wife and your family are. It's the emotional place where you feel like you're not away from it.

I'm very attached to my family and protective of them and miss them, and that situation, my connection with that can make me become very vulnerable.

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home

It felt very good to have him walking beside her. Good like rest and quiet, like something you could live without but you needed anyway. That you had to learn how to miss, and then you'd never stop missing it.

Here I am not the one to throw out. No one steals my warmth and shoes because I am small. No one handles my backside. No one whinnies like sheep or goat because I drop in fear and weakness. No one screams at the sight of me. No one watches my body for how it is unseemly. With you my body is pleasure is safe is belonging. I can never not have you have me.

My brothers are so much a part of who I am, and such a large part of my heart and my drive. I've never had a kid, but I understand that whole, "I would kill for my family" kind of thing. I understood it, it resonated with me. It's a very primal, animal thing that you feel for your family.

You're always homesick. There's always something about home that's special. But I'm not a things person. I'm not attached to my things.

Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more.

No matter under what circumstances you leave it, home does not cease to be home. No matter how you lived there - well or poorly.

I suppose home is, for me, more of a state of mind. It's really more of about being where I want to be with people I care about.