Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Abode. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Abode Quotes And Sayings by 90 Authors including Elise Kova,J.p. Walker,Clive Barker,Theresa Romain,L.m. Montgomery for you to enjoy and share.
Home. This magnificent palace had been her home since she was eleven. She'd came to it as a farmer's daughter, and now she'd leave it as a soldier.
12 Arnold Grove, Merseyside.
This is a forsaken place ... I can think of no use for a place like this, except that you could say of it: I saw the heart of nothing, and survived.
Any place could be a cage. And maybe, with the right person, any place could be a home.
A house from which nobody ever went away without feeling better in some way. A house in which there was always laughter.
My idea of home is not necessarily a place.
The House shewes the owner.
Under the one word "house" are included the schoolhouse, the almshouse, the jail, the tavern, the dwellinghouse; and the meanest shed or cave in which men live contains elements of all these. But nowhere on the earth stands the entire and perfect house.
My home is not a place; it's people.
If I come back, it will be a place, but it won't be a home any longer.
There was an emptiness about the heart of life; an attic room.
My home is not a place, it is people.
The very concept of home has become tarnished, misty, elusive. As never before, we are living in a rootless age. So many of us are refugees, living out of suitcases, car trunks, cardboard boxes, desperate to go back to a home that no longer exists.
garden. I have been defeated,
A hollow edifice erected for the habitation of man, rat, mouse, beetle, cockroach, fly, mosquito, flea, bacillus, and microbe.
The raw truth you profess shows your abode
I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.
house at Otowi Bridge.
That have never known inhabitants, or homes that have known owners and seen them ejected, the house standing triumphantly voided, humanless.
What we call a home is merely any place that succeeds in making more consistenly available to us the important truths which the wider world ignores, or which our distracted and irresolute selves have trouble holding onto. (p123) Architecture of Happiness
In his den the monster keep, Giver of eternal sleep.
What is home but a place where you are truly known?
I am living at the Villa Borghese. There is not a crumb of dirt anywhere, nor a chair misplaced. We are all alone here and we are dead.
I entered my small loft with its chronic undertow of loneliness
living in a stinking
Home. It is the place where once we lived and laughed, where we grew up with the assumption that all would be well, where we met our first love, where life stretched endlessly ahead. This is the place that now becomes a desert of the heart.
Home. Wow. I'm already calling it home.
Well, isn't that what any place is? Any place that you share with
someone you love, I mean?
the sort of place you went when you had no other options.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE EMPTY HOUSE
Back to the house.'
Yes. You know ... the oversized box in which we live?
Inside a home you left me, a blue orphanage.
Inside a bluish mosaic, space to live.
A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.
The only indestructible palace is in the heart.
When you have lost your inns, you may drown your empty selves. For you have lost the heart of England.
I will come to you, my friend, when I no longer need you. Then you will find a palace, not an almshouse.
This was the setting in which the most troubled and most precious days of my life were lived: an abode from which our adventurings flowed out, to flow back again like waves breaking on a lonely headland.
My Becca's home.
Home's the most excellent place of all.
Is where you live. This is where you sleep. This is where you feel the most privacy in your whole entire life. This is more than just a room.
Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode until we drive away.
Somewhere to take shelter from the elements but not the storms of life.
The home is a tryst-the place where we retire and shut the world out.
room below and a bedchamber above.
A place to keep all your secrets
Long have I dwelt forgotten here
In pining woe and dull despair;
This place of solitude and gloom
Must be my dungeon and my tomb.
Where do you live?" Adam's mouth was very set. "A place made for leaving" "That's not really an answer." "It's not really a place.
I have lost all sense of home, having moved about so much. It means to me now
only that place where the books are kept.
Home isn't a place, its a feeling
Prison house for the soul
This tiny habitation on wheels, with bit parts of the living room, the washroom, and the fireplace, is a pathetic admission that human life is no more than this: an attempt to feel at home while racing towards oblivion. He
No one ever leaves alive The house at 7 Ocean Drive
Your real home isn't your patterned self. It isn't your thinking. It isn't your feeling. Your real home is the deepest within that you know the truth of. Your real home, your only home, is direct knowledge.
My house, my house, though thou art small, Thou art to me the Escurial.
What a place for him who intends to pass an examination, to write a book, or who wants the crumples got by crushing together too long with his fellows to be smoothed out of his soul.
One way to find your place is like the rain, a million requests for lodging, one that wins, finds your cheek: you find your home.
If we wish to have a beautiful, peaceful and safe home, we need healthy expanding roots that go deep into the ground. These roots are our Routine, our Stability, our Structure.
Living one floor below Paradise.
They say that 'home is where the heart is.' I think it is where the house is, and the adjacent buildings.
In this house, speaking and thinking
A place for everything and everything in its place
The place has entered me...it has coloured my life like a stain.
The house is a machine for living in.
What does a house want to be?
Passage Vero-Dodat - I started my company on this passage. It feels as much home as it can!
A waste land lit by holy candles.
The living grave of crime.
London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained.
bedroom. I love this house. My mom
We are resident inside with the machinery, a glimmering spread throughout the apparatus. We exist with a wind whispering inside and our moon flexing. Amid the ducts, inside the basilica of bones. The flesh is a neighborhood, but not the life.
To survive the daily bumps and bruises that come with living our lives, we all need a gentle and loving home both within and outside of ourselves.
Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room.
Home was homeless. It could exist anywhere, because its only substance was familiarity.
It was a place you could make into a home if your home hadn't worked out.
the den, drinking beer and arguing over
The Annex is an ideal place to hide in. It may be damp and lopsided, but there's probably not a more comfortable hiding place in all of Amsterdam. No, in all of Holland.
Home is not a place. It is a feeling.
Those comfortably padded lunatic asylums which are known, euphemistically, as the stately homes of England.
Heaven - the treasury of everlasting life.
Arden Shore Camp in Lake Bluff, Illinois, a camp for poor children and those at risk for delinquency.
her bathroom, likely not to surface for a while. She had agreed to
Man's home is nature; his purposes and aims are dependent for execution upon natural conditions. Separated from such conditions they become empty dreams and idle indulgences of fancy.
Behind our unremarkable front door waits the little world of our making - our home.
My entire concept of lifestyle is built on the foundation of my homes. There is no more important expression of this concept than that of my own personal living space.
the spare bedroom?
Our homes do not have to offer us permanent occupancy or store our clothes to merit the name. To speak of home in relation to a building is simply to recognise its harmony with our own prized internal song. Home can be an airport or a library, a garden or a motorway diner.
Aethe, near my heart.
Without vanity, the ribbon.
Without duty, the wind.
Without blood, the victory.
If imagination is your wealth, then ideas are your abode.
Having been ripped open and drained by the crowd
When I enter my home,
Many homes seem to be waiting for me
to give a shape to this life
which is about to perish.
Chuse not an house neere an lnne (viz. for noise) or in a corner (for filth).
There are rooms one never leaves.
A house is not a machine to live in. It is the shell of man, his extension, his release, his spiritual emanation.
At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house.
Deep within each of us is a longing for home. We yearn for a place of comfort where we can be ourselves, where we can realize our dreams.
Solitude is the house of peace.
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.
London, dirty little pool of life
A house of which one knew every room wasn't worth living in.
If you are living in a beautiful house surrounded by beautiful environment, you know not where to stay, inside or outside?
There is no mysterious essence we can call a 'place'. Place is change. It is motion killed by the mind, and preserved in the amber of memory.