Home Quotes - Page 366

Kaisers and Czars will strut the stage Once more with pomp and greed and rage; Courtly ministers will stop At home and fight to the last drop; By the million men will die In some new horrible agony.

I wasn't safe. I wasn't permanent. My life was a fiction I had created, like an alien who comes to earth and tries to pass as human. The affections of my friends meant nothing to me, directed, as they were, toward a person who wasn't there. There was nobody home.

I have always found it a testament to the importance of painting that the first thing many people do when their home is on fire is to grab their paintings and then run out.

Sometimes history knocks at the most ordinary door to see if anyone is home. Sometimes someone is.

Do you ever go off with a long grocery list and come home from the store with a bunch of different stuff? And somebody in the family unsacks the groceries and wants to know why you got this and didn't get that and just where is the whatever? And you want to say, 'Well, just be glad I came back, okay?' And the unpacker says, 'Well, next time bring what's on the list.'

I never feel more at home than at a ballgame.

If the day ever comes when they know who They are, they may know better where they are.

For most visitors to Manhattan, both foreign and domestic, New York is the Shrine of the Good Time. "I don't see how you stand it," they often say to the native New Yorker who has been sitting up past his bedtime for a week in an attempt to tire his guest out. "It's all right for a week or so, but give me the little old home town when it comes to living." And, under his breath, the New Yorker endorses the transfer and wonders himself how he stands it.

In Milwaukee last month a man died laughing over one of his own jokes. That's what makes it so tough for us outsiders. We have to fight home competition.

I think I feel much more at home in studio.

My videos rarely run longer than 20 minutes. They're made for private viewing in your home or specifically either that or for a gallery situation where you sit and look.

Some gifted adventurer is always sailing round the world of art and science, to bring home costly merchandise from every port.

Many have asked, pointing incredulously toward a sweep of tract homes and billboards, why picture that? The question sounds simple, but it implies a difficult issue - why open our eyes anywhere but in undamaged places like national parks?

Basically I was a theatre fanatic. I had a job with Home Box Office as a theatre consultant for a long time.

Somtimes you lie in a strange room, in a strange person's home, and you feel yourself bending out of shape. Melting, touching something hot, something that warps you in drastic and probably irreversible ways you won't get to take stock of until its too late

The fact is, I have a great home and I like to have people come up. I meet enough people just doing my grocery shopping; I don't need to go out and meet any more people.

My father was never very friendly. When I was growing up, I thought the doorbell ringing was a signal to pretend you weren't home.

I never try to force poems into a collection simply because they were written/published within a certain period of time. They will eventually find their perfect home.

I would drive home and see people wearing my No. 34 jersey and wonder why, because I didn't feel worthy of that. And all the time I just knew people were staring at me, talking about me everywhere I went.

Ive got tapes that Im so thankful that my father made - old reel-to-reel tapes. Ive got a ton of those things at home. He kept those like fine diamonds, I mean he kept them, you know, in a box and was very, very careful of them, you know.

Most people sitting at home aren't cool, successful, witty Hollywood stars, but they all worry about what people think of them when they faux pas.

I was a girl and became a woman. Something about having the freedom at home to be in the position I wanted, to have the people I wanted, was empowering.

Adolphus is not at his desk. That means he is somewhere in the Monstrumarium, has gone home for the day, or is dead.

It was the price of survival. The cost of his people's last, desperate gamble: To rid his new home of humanity, he had to become human. And being human, he had to overcome his humanity.

You never know when the truth will come home. You can't choose the time. The time chooses you.