Longing for Home Quotes

I could dance with you until the cows come home. On second thought I'd rather dance with the cows until you come home.

We are all strangers in a strange land, longing for home, but not quite knowing what or where home is. We glimpse it sometimes in our dreams, or as we turn a corner, and suddenly there is a strange, sweet familiarity that vanishes almost as soon as it comes...

I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and the dragons of home under one's skin, at the extreme corners of one's eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.

I'd always somehow felt slightly as if I'd been born in the wrong country.

I wanted to go home and if Hell rose up to stop me, it would make me desire it more.

I miss my family, and I miss the New Jersey beaches. They have beaches here in L.A., but they aren't the same.

I just miss being around my mother. I'm her boy. I'm a momma's boy.

I love traveling all over the world; but it's true: there's nothing like home.

I never wanted to be away from the family. Intuitively, I knew how easily distances could harden and become permanent.

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

For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers.

People who feel themselves to be exiles in this world are mightily inclined to believe themselves citizens of another.

Man, I love coming home. St. Louis is actually hard to capture.

I get homesick - I could be in the sunniest place, but I need to see normality, and normal, for me, is London.

...to return to their 'native soil,' as they say, to the bosom, so to speak, of their mother earth, like frightened children, yearning to fall asleep on the withered bosom of their decrepit mother, and to sleep there for ever, only to escape the horrors that terrify them.

I don't like going away from my children.

Why O why did I ever leave my hobbit-hole?" said poor Mr. Baggins, bumping up and down on Bombur's back.

We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness.

I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now... Come further up, come further in!

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.

I haven't become an American! Having a house in LA is just where the house is. It's just a convenience thing living there. I carry Wales around inside me. I'd consider moving back there one day. I never really left.

I'm eighty-three and homeless. It was the same when World War II ended. The Army kept me on because I could type, so I was typing other people's discharges and stuff. And my feeling was "Please, I've done everything I was supposed to do. Can I go home now?" That what I feel right now. I've written books. Lots of them. Please, I've done everything I'm supposed to do. Can I go home now? I've wondered where home is. It's when I was in Indianapolis when I was nine years old. Had a dog, a cat, a brother, a sister.

Some guys are on the road and can't wait to get home; others are at home and can't wait to get on the road. I'm definitely the one who wants to be home.

exile is strangely compelling to think about but terrible to experience. It is the unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home: its essential sadness can never be surmounted. And while it is true that literature and history contain heroic, romantic, glorious, even triumphant episodes in an exile’s life, these are no more than efforts meant to overcome the crippling sorrow of estrangement.

The years rolled slowly past and I found myself alone. Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends, I found myself further and further from my home.