Violence against women is not random or anonymous. In West Virginia, 88 percent of sexual-assault victims already know their attacker. In my hometown, Alicia McCormick, an advocate for our domestic-violence shelter at the YWCA, was killed in her home by a man doing handiwork in her apartment complex. That one of my greatest advocates could fall victim to something she fought against her whole life was a tragedy that moved me to action.
Of course, I tweet. Tweeting is a very personal form of expression. Who else could talk about my son refusing to wear a suit to meet the Pope, my husband flying a helicopter, or take a twitpic from our home?
Although I managed my schedule to be home by late afternoon most days, basically, Roselle raised our children alone. And so I missed out on a lot of wonderful moments, missed watching my kids grow into the wonderful people they are today.
Methinks it is a token of healthy and gentle characteristics, when women of high thoughts and accomplishments love to sew; especially as they are never more at home with their own hearts than while so occupied.
I was born in Scotland and have lived there all my life. I speak conversational Cantonese with my dad when I'm at home, and very basic Mandarin.
Home is where one starts from. As we grow older The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicatied Of dead and living, Not the intense moment Isolated, with no before and after, But a lifetime burning in every moment. . .
I feel that one of the reasons Brexit happened was that people stayed at home rather than going to the polls.
You're so used to being on the road and having a schedule that the insanity seeps in when you're sitting at home and there's nothing going on that day. I remember the first time we got off one of our first big tours, I told my guys, "Go home to your girlfriends. " The next day, all my guys texted me like, "Do you wanna, like, do something? Let's all go bowling. I can't hang with people that live normal lives. "
In Harlem, for instance, all of the stores are owned by white people, all of the buildings are owned by white people. The black people are just there - paying rent, buying the groceries; but they don't own the stores, clothing stores, food stores, any kind of stores; don't even own the homes that they live in. They are all owned by outsiders, and for these run-down apartment dwellings, the black man in Harlem pays more money than the man down in the rich Park Avenue section.
I believed in a good home, in sane and sound living, in good food, good times, work, faith and hope. I have always believed in these things. It was with some amazement that I realized I was one of the few people in the world who really believed in these things without going around making a dull middle class philosophy out of it. I was suddenly left with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars.
I grew up in Florida, and I wanted to go home and I couldn't. I didn't have the money. The book [The Tiger Rising] was a way to go home.
We are committing ourselves to basic protections of our people. . . We will not permit banks to repossess the homes of working class and middle class people. That's the end of that, it is not negotiable.
It's difficult to talk to people who whisper even at home, afraid of Americans eavesdropping on them. It's not a figure of speech, not a joke, I'm serious.
If you don't have your game-face on, you're going to go home either to a hospital or to a casket.
The creative genius may be at once naive and knowledgeable, being at home equally with primitive symbolism and rigorous logic.
Dads are the leaders in their homes, and our kids need leaders.
Major danger lie for America? That we could very well be defeated oversees and at home. And the source of it is clearly that we have yet to find a politician in either partywho's willing to tell the American people the truth.
Terrorism has replaced Communism as the rationale for the militarization of the country [America], for military adventures abroad, and for the suppression of civil liberties at home. It serves the same purpose, serving to create hysteria.
When I'm home on a break, I lock myself in my room and play guitar. After two or three hours, I start getting into this total meditation. It's a feeling few people experience, and that's usually when I come up with weird stuff. It just flows. I can't force myself. I don't sit down and say I've got to practice.
I came home one night, some month ago, and I went to the closet in my bedroom. . . and a moth ate my sports jacket. He was laying on the floor, nauseous, y'know.