The war is dreadful. It is the business of the artist to follow it home to the heart of the individual fighters - not to talk in armies and nations and numbers - but to track it home.
I didn't get how big it was until I went home, turned on the television and saw it on all the news, and later that night on the front pages of all the newspapers. Then I got it.
The summer movies are coming out. My advice: just stay home and burn a good book.
The people of Israel have come home never to be uprooted again.
What about the poor salesman who is calling into the office from the corner saloon instead of the home sickbed he claims he is in?
Brian seemed to be in a state of confusion. I thought of packing my bags and going home. The squad seemed to me to be rudderless.
I do the cooking at home. Where we eat no more than 100 grams of meat a day and have 'tons' of fresh vegetables. I prepare the vegetables with a wide range of herbs, spices and such. We also keep on hand lots of fruit, yogurt and great breads.
God wants to help you find your way home.
Without reservation I promise you that if each of you will observe this simple program, regardless of how many times you previously may have read the Book of Mormon, there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to His commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God.
I live in New York. I have an amazing apartment over there; I have this amazing life over there that's full of glamour. I get treated like a queen over there - and that's one of the reasons I love coming home. It's very grounding.
A dog, for me, it's not just getting a dog. I couldn't leave him at home. I'm looking for a life partner and I'm not ready. I'm not emotionally mature enough.
You've seen the world, and all you've seen is nothing; and everything, as well, that you have said and heard is nothing. You've sprinted everywhere between here and the horizon; it is nothing. And all the possessions you've treasured up at home are nothing.
There questions of wanting to be an artist, and what does that mean, what makes you an artist? Are you an artist if you're in a gallery in New York and not an artist if you're doing it at home? Do you need legitimation to count? If you've been acculturated to believe that you have certain obligations - familial, social, human - if multitasking has been your forte and that's what's been praised and rewarded, where do you find the single-mindedness, the selfishness to do something like art? I think those are questions that arise differently for women and for men.
Homes should be an anchor, a safe harbor, a place of refuge, a place where families dwell together, a place where children are loved. In the home, parents should teach their children the great lessons of life. Home should be the center of one’s earthly experience, where love and mutual respect are appropriately blended.
What I have to tell you is this: I am resolved that dancing is to be my path. I know that to be a dancer is to be considered in our world little more than a prostitute. But you cannot imagine what is happening here in Berlin. It is different back home, but in Europe dance is being reborn as something more than cheap entertainment by loose women.
My mom had gotten a Super 8 camera to make home movies with, and my brother and me got our hands on it and ran with it.
I've been recognized in airports lots of places, but mostly getting recognized is at home.
My mom's coming home soon," I said. "We should go to your place. " Patch ran a hand across the shadow of stubble along his jaw. "I have rules about who I take there. " I was getting really tired of that answer. "If you showed me, you'd have to kill me?" I guessed, fighting the urge to feel irritated. "Once I'm inside, I can never leave?" Patch studied me a moment. Then he reached into his pocket, twisted a key off his key chain, and slipped it into the front pocket of my pajama top. "Once you've gone inside, you have to keep coming back.
Long weekends at festivals, short weeks at home, all summer long: now that is surely preferable to the immense cost and headache of the nuclear family holiday in the sun?
The sun isn't your friend. It didn't laugh at that stupid little joke. But when the business failed, when your beauty failed, when you should have gone home but spent the night, the sun kept shining.
