Friday, December 14, 2018 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Lee Evans

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I love restaurants. And that's the thing now, they always boast about now, restaurants: "Home-made cooking." I don't want home-made cooking. That's why I'm here, 'cos I don't like the shit at home! Yeah... you know! And they don't say whose home it is, do they! Could be a mental home, couldn't it!

 
Lee Evans

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This "I" of mine toils hard, day and night, for a home which it knows as its own. Alas, there will be no end of its sufferings so long as it is not able to call this home thine. Till then it will struggle on, and its heart will ever cry, "Ferryman, lead me across." When this home of mine is made thine, that very moment is it taken across, even while its old walls enclose it. This "I" is restless. It is working for a gain which can never be assimilated with its spirit, which it never can hold and retain. In its efforts to clasp in its own arms that which is for all, it hurts others and is hurt in its turn, and cries, "Lead me across". But as soon as it is able to say, "All my work is thine," everything remains the same, only it is taken across.
Where can I meet thee unless in this mine home made thine? Where can I join thee unless in this my work transformed into thy work? If I leave my home I shall not reach thy home; if I cease my work I can never join thee in thy work. For thou dwellest in me and I in thee. Thou without me or I without thee are nothing.

 
Rabindranath Tagore
 

The progressive movement is the lunatic fringe of the left. It is the home of everything that you despise. It is the home of income tax. It is the home of prohibition. It is the home of the Fed.

 
Glenn Beck
 

You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time-back home to the escapes of Time and Memory.

 
Thomas Wolfe
 

Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

 
Paul Simon
 

When you smile at me well I feel so good
Come on home
I can't be mad at you like I know I should
Come on home.
Well you took me for a ride
And I thought my love had died;
Still I need you by my side
So come on home.

 
Tom Springfield
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