D. H. Lawrence Quotes

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

America took me into her bosom when there was no longer a country worthy of the name, but in my heart I am German - German in my soul.

I do not feel an exile from America in any sense.

In England I am not English, in India I am not Indian. I am chained to the 1,000 square miles that is Trinidad; but I will evade that fate yet.

Lots of times you can feel as an exile in a country that you were born in.

A writer without his country is nothing.

For a man who no longer has a homeland, writing becomes a place to live.

Homeland is something one becomes aware of only through its loss.

The question about my Canadianness comes up a lot, and I'm never quite sure what to say about it. I've carved a life out for myself in Oregon, and it feels like home, not because it's the States but because that's where my friends are and where my son is.

One of my clearest impressions about India as a child was that my parents' stories would have been impossible had they stayed. Of course, such a vision was self-serving, for it made a virtue of our displacement.

I never felt truly at home in Switzerland.

Language, identity, place, home: these are all of a piece - just different elements of belonging and not-belonging.

James Joyce wrote the definitive work about Dublin while he was living in Switzerland. We're all where we come from. We all have our roots.

I never had a sense of home.

Well, I'm Czech, but Polish, Czech, no matter, it's my name.

It took me many years to understand that my identity is more Israeli than Jewish.

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.

The homeland affects you directly: it affects your body; it affects the collective mind and the collective heart and the collective spirit.

You carry your country with you, it's part of your baggage.

Maybe I am not French, maybe I am from nowhere.

I come from no country, from no city, no tribe. I am the son of the road... all tongues and all prayers belong to me. But I belong to none of them.

In the true sense one's native land, with its background of tradition, early impressions, reminiscences and other things dear to one, is not enough to make sensitive human beings feel at home.

The world belongs to no one. There are very few people who fit into the world. And part of the struggle of every human life is to somehow claim a place on the planet, but it's at the forefront of the experience of the wandering race. The wandering people.