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Living with kids is like living in a frat house... everything's broken, nobody sleeps, and there's alot of throwing up
--
on Everybody Loves Raymond

 

Ray Romano

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Stewart: Living. Living. Everyday living. At home, in the garden, around the house, with the kids, um, on vacation, and it has always been for me a very serious subject. But to persuade other people that it's a serious subject, not my readers, not my, not my followers, I don't want to call them followers, my friends, but to persuade...

 

Martha Stewart

 

Every neighborhood on the planet has a house like this on the block. We've all driven past it. A bunch of people living there, too old to be kids, but never gonna be adults... You can tell that by the "AEROSMITH ROCKS" banner in the living room window... Four sociopathic pitbulls roaming the yard at all times... The brown one has one leg, just flops to the fence every couple of hours... You can tell when the family's doubled their net worth 'cause they parked a new gutted Chevelle in the driveway... The mailman's afraid to bring the mail, so he just gives it to the cops, 'cause hell, they're gonna be there anyway... And if you don't recognize this house in your neighborhood, you live in this house in your neighborhood.

 

Christopher Titus

 

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of — throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

 

C. S. Lewis

 

In the absence of understanding, that was a good a reason as any for living together and making babies and raising them up and throwing them out of the house and then going through the long slow decline together until one of them died and left the other alone again, understanding as little as ever about what their spouses really wanted, who they really were. Was that tragedy? Or was that comedy? Was there really any difference?

 

Orson Scott Card

 

A man builds a house in England with the expectation of living in it and leaving it to his children; while we shed our houses in America as easily as a snail does his shell. We live a while in Boston, and then a while in New York, and then, perhaps, turn up at Cincinnati. Scarcely any body with us is living where they expect to live and die. The man that dies in the house he was born in is a wonder. There is something pleasant in the permanence and repose of the English family estate, which we, in America, know very little of.

 

Harriet Beecher Stowe