Maybe it’s possible to have more than one home. Maybe it’s possible to belong in a hundred different ways to a hundred different people and places.
I never thought I’d have children; I never thought I’d be in love, I never thought I’d meet the right person. Having come from a broken home – you kind of accept that certain things feel like a fairy tale, and you just don’t look for them.
How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.
Home was where you had to feel safe. If you didn’t feel safe, it wasn’t home.
Home life ceases to be free and beautiful as soon as it is founded on borrowing and debt.[Der kommer noget ufrit, og altså også noget uskønt, over det hjem, som grundes på lån og gæld.]
Home life as we understand it is no more natural to us than a cage is natural to a cockatoo.
Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.
Home Is Where the Heart Is.
Home is where one starts from.
Home is watching the moon rise over the open, sleeping land and having someone you can call to the window, so you can look together.
Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.
Home is the place that when you go there, they have to take you in.
