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Home: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher thro' To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.— BURNS — The Cotter's Saturday Night. St. 3.
To make a happy fireside clime To weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life.— BURNS — Epistle to Dr. Blacklock.
Home is home, though it be never so homely.— JOHN CLARKE — Paroemiologia. P. 101.
For a man's house is his castle. la— SIR EDWARD COKE — Institutes. Pt. III.
Against Going, or Riding Armed, P.
The house of every one is to him as his castle and fortress, as well for his defence against injury and violence, as for his repose.— SIR EDWARD COKE — Reports. Semaynes' Case. Vol. III. Pt. V. P. 185.
For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.— ABRAHAM COWLEY — To the Bishop of Lincoln. L. 27.
I am far frae my hame, an' I'm weary aften whiles, For the longed-for hame-bringing an' my Father's welcome smiles.— ERASTUS ELLSWORTH — My Ain Countrie.
See MOODY and SANKEY'S Hymns, No. 5. Come home! Would I could send my spirit o'er the deep! Would I could wing it like a bird to thee, To commune with thy thoughts, to fill thy sleep With these unwearying words of melody Brother, come home!— CATHERINE H. W. ESLING — Brother,
Come Home. At night returning, every labour sped, He sits him down, the monarch of a shed; Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze; While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard, Displays her cleanly platter on the board.— GOLDSMITH — The Traveller. L. 191.
The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door; The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.— GOLDSMITH — The Deserted Village. L. 227.
The stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. S.— MRS. HEMANS — Homes of England.
My house, my house, though thou art small, Thou art to me the Escurial.— HERBERT — Jacula Prudentum. No. 416.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul. и.— HOMER — Odyssey. Bk. XIII. L. 38.
Pope's trans Peace and rest at length have come All the day's long toil is past; And each heart is whispering, "Home, Home at last!"— HOOD — Home At Last.
Who hath not met with home-made bread, A heavy compound of putty and lead- And home-made wines that rack the head, And home-made liquors and waters? Home-made pop that will not foam, And home-made dishes that drive one from home- * * * * * * Home-made by the homely daughters.— HOOD — Miss Kilmansegg.
Cling to thy home! If there the meanest shed Yield thee a hearth and shelter for thy head, And some poor plot, with vegetables stored, Be all that Heaven allots thee for thy board, Unsavory bread, and herbs that scatter'd grow Wild on the river-brink or mountain-brow; Yet e'en this cheerless mansion shall provide More heart's repose than all the world beside.— LEONIDAS — Home.
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest, For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care; To stay at home is best. C.— LONGFELLOW — Song. St. 1.
Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth.— MILTON — Penseroso. L. 81.
It is for homely features to keep home, They had their name thence.— MILTON — Comus. L. 748.
His home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.— MONTGOMERY — West Indies. Pt. III. L. 67.
Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?— MOORE — The Dream of Home. St. 1.
Subduing and subdued, the petty strife, Which clouds the colour of domestic life; The sober comfort, all the peace which springs From the large aggregate of little things; On these small cares of daughter, wife or friend, The almost sacred joys of home depend.— HANNAH MORE — Sensibility.
By the fireside still the light is shining, The children's arms round the parents twining. From love so sweet, O who would roam? Be it ever so homely, home is home.— D. M. MULOCK — A Shetland Fairy Tale. Sc. 4.
Nullus est locus domesticâ sede jucundior. There is no place more delightful than one's own fireside.— CICERO — Epistolæ. IV. 8.
Domus sua cuique est tutissimum refugium. Every man's house is his safest refuge. Law Maxim.