All the sea-gods are dead. You, Venus, come home To your salt maidenhead.
I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!
I have no idea how to get in touch with anyone anymore. Everyone, it seems, has a home phone, a cell phone, a regular e-mail account, a Facebook account, a Twitter account, and a Web site. Some of them also have a Google Voice number. There are the sentimental few who still have fax machines.
I'm gonna give them the advice that I always took myself, that it's better to get to know somebody before you jump into the sack with them. Because then if you jump into the sack and fall in love, and you liked them already, you're home free.
My main objective is to prepare candidates for professional baseball; however, the majority of our graduates will go home as much better qualified amateurs.
There is no home as comfortable as your father's arms and no bed as soft as your mother's lap.
I am convinced that the influence of an army of godly women will be incalculable--in our homes, our churches, and our culture. Will you be one of those women?
My style advice to other girls is to be experimental but always have a 'home base' and stick with your comfort style.
The object we call a book is not the real book, but its potential, like a musical score or seed. It exists fully only in the act of being read; and its real home is inside the head of the reader, where the symphony resounds, the seed germinates. A book is a heart that only beats in the chest of another.
Introverts. . may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas.
You don't want to be down 2-0 in a series. It's always important to try and get one on the opponent's home court. It makes your job at home easier.
It's a struggle every day, to stay present, not to become that. . . eight year old who was bullied and chased home from school. Some days I wake up and it's like I'm eight years old again. And I'm scared for my life, and I don't know if I'm going to be beaten up that day.
When I go to the old folks' home, I'm gonna be sitting in a rocking chair, telling everybody how I worked with Jack [Lemmon] and Walter [Matthau].
The true Christian regards all Christ's friends as his friends, members of the same body, children of the same family, soldiers in the same army, travelers to the same home. When he meets them, he feels as if he had long known them. He is more at home with them in a few minutes, than he is with many worldly people after an acquaintance of several years. And what is the secret of all this? It is simply affection to the same Savior and love to the same Lord.
Every day I lugged my backpack through the halls, waiting for the final bell. Then I'd race home and hole up in my room, playing the drums and the piano, composing music.
I walked until midnight in the storm, then I went home and took a sauna for an hour and a half. It was all clear. I listened to my heart and saw if there were any signs of my destiny in the sky, and there were none — there were just snowflakes.
I was very independent growing up, but there were things that were bothering me that I never told anybody. I would talk to our animals at home.
To give law enforcement the additional tools it needs to track down terror here at home.
Talking to mothers, always brings it home because they're so anxious to do everything they can for their kids and so tragic for them.
We profess to be strangers and pilgrims, seeking after a country of our own, yet we settle down in the most un-stranger-like fashion, exactly as if we were quite at home and meant to stay as long as we could. I don't wonder apostolic miracles have died. Apostolic living certainly has.