Home, home - a few small rooms, stiflingly over-inhabited by a man, by a periodically teeming woman, by rabble of boys and girls of all ages. No air, no space; an understerilized prison; darkness, disease and smells.
When I finally went to Ireland, I had to go. It was 1993. My father was finally too old to travel alone, and he asked me to take him home. When an old man asks you to take him home, you have to do it.
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.
My guilty pleasure is I like to watch a lot of HGTV. I really like watching design shows about houses, like extreme homes. Like buying a bridge and turning it into a house or something like that. I really am interested in home design or something lik...
I know,” he said, very softly. “Let’s go home. Let’s go home, and you can tell me whatever you want, and I’ll believe you.
An informed parent or caregiver becomes empowered, and empowerment can lead to the best care for our children.
But when we moved to the country, miles from the nearest restaurant, his hints anent his favorite dies grew so insistent that it became a question of tripe or divorce, and for a short time it was a difficult decision.
But when physical appearance evades the scrutiny of our senses and enters the sanctuary of our hearts, then it can forget itself. I know, from my childhood's experience, how devotion is beauty itself, in its inner aspect.
Wife, to him, was someone who stood for stability, for coming home, for dealing with all the shit he wasn’t able to deal with. For providing a real life and not this insanity.
And in that moment, Grace understood something that she would never forget: Home wasn't just a building or an apartment with a roof and beds and chairs inside. Home was with her family, wherever they were.
I don't feel alone with you. I feel like I have a family and a home again. You're my home. All of the dark shadows seem to disappear when we're together.
I'm in a win-win playoff. " Response of a Christian dying of cancer at thirty on the prospect of miraculous healing.
Proximity to power has an unsurprising ability to mutate a politician's spinal cord into bright yellow jelly.
Monotonous talk of the end of American hegemony, the universal cliché of the period, is mostly a way of avoiding mounting a serious opposition to it.
It's and old, old story: I had a friend and we shared everything, and then she died and so we shared that, too.
I know now that we never get over great losses; we absorb them, and they carve us into different, often kinder, creatures.
A woman keeps to home and family, and tends to matters inside the home. A man keeps to war games and tends to matters outside." A queen tends to both, I wanted to say, but did not. She would not understand.
Luggage and guests did not travel together ... in fact, luggage went by a different route, so suitcases could be distributed to guest rooms before they arrived
Post kept bound books with typed lists of gifts sent and received ... jeweler Harry Winston sent her a box of cheese
Mother said to me that the angels must have been watching over me when I found you, and that's the way I feel.
I didn’t know what to call it, what was happening between us, but I liked it. It felt silly and fragile and good.
