Dave Eggers Quotes

When you leave a beautiful place, you carry it with you wherever you go.

All I can say is sometimes home gets burned into your occipital lobe, and it can't leave you, and there's always that longing.

In the mind, in the heart, I was always home. I always imagined, really, going back home.

I can confirm I feel more at home at Roma than elsewhere. I was adopted by the club, the staff and the fans. From the first day I sensed this great atmosphere.

The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it's the temperature of happiness.

There are places one comes home to that one has never been to.

I grow old though pleased with my memories The tasks I can no longer complete Are balanced by the love of the tasks gone past I offer no apology only this plea: When I am frayed and strained and drizzle at the end Please someone cut a square and put me in a quilt That I might keep some child warm And some old person with no one else to talk to Will hear my whispers And cuddle near

I could almost feel him near me, the way you can feel a fire's presence in a cold room.

I want to have the memories of my time with you to keep me warm.

To an old man any place that's warm is homeland.

He dropped the pretense, and dropped his head, so his brow came to rest against the sun-warmed top of hers. His arms went around her and drew her in, and Karou and Akiva were like two matches struck against each other to flare starlight. With a sigh, she softened, and it was pure homecoming to melt against him and rest.

I don't even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.

When my wife's Aunt Caroline was in her nineties, she lived with us, and she once remarked: 'Remembrance is sufficient of the beauty we have seen.' I cherish the remembrance of the beauty I have seen. I cherish the grave, compulsive word.

He didn't take her breath away. Maybe the opposite. But that was okay-that was really good, actually, to be near someone who filled your lungs with air.

Is love this misguided need to have you beside me most of the time? Is love this safety I feel in our silences? Is it this belonging, this completeness?

When I dig back through memory cells, I get one particularly distinctive feeling-and that's one of warmth, comfort and well-being. For whatever else I may have had, or lost, or will find-I've still got a hometown. This, nobody's gonna take away from me.

This was a memory I wanted to keep, whole, and recall again and again. When I was fifty years old I wanted to remember this moment on the porch, holding hands with Cameron while he shared himself with me. I didn’t want it to be something on the fringes of my memory like so many other things about Cameron and myself.

I liked the place I came from. But a lot of what I liked about it was that I had come from there.

There are parts of New Zealand that I absolutely fell in love with that I will miss going back to, but I kind of think that is the part that can continue and will continue on. I don't imagine I'll stop going back to New Zealand, because I feel part of the fabric there, really.

When I look out at the people and they look at me and they're smiling, then I know that I'm loved. That is the time when I have no worries, no problems.

What I felt is the same kind of love I felt between Waylon and his audience. And that's what I miss.

I think about my mother every day. But usually the thoughts are fleeting - she crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye: startling, luminous, lovely... gone.

The older you get, the more you find yourself looking for things you used to see and liked when you were younger.

I'll put it out there: I love getting hugs.

I have lived most of my life in Paris, but I have a connection with Rome that I have with no other place. I'm attached by invisible strings.