There is something permanent, and something extremely profound, in owning a home.

My home...It is my retreat and resting place from wars, I try to keep this corner as a haven against the tempest outside, as I do another corner in my soul.

Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.

Everyday is a journey, and the journey itself is home.

Seek home for rest, for home is best.

He is the happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home.

Home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.

One may make their house a palace of sham, or they can make it a home, a refuge.

There is no place more delightful than one's own fireplace.

There is a magic in that little world, home; it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond its hallowed limits.

No matter under what circumstances you leave it, home does not cease to be home. No matter how you lived there, well or poorly.

The home to everyone is to him his castle and fortress, as well for his defence against injury and violence, as for his repose.

Every house where love abides
and friendship is a guest is surely home,
and home sweet home; for there the heart can rest.

Home is where friendships are formed
and families are grown
where joy is shared
and true love is known;
where memories are made
and seeds of life are sown.
This is the place...
that people call Home.

Home is home, however poor it may be.

A hundred men may make an encampment, but it takes a woman to make a home.

One returns to the place one came from.

Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.

Home ought to be our clearinghouse, the place from which we go forth lessoned and disciplined, and ready for life.

Home is the place we love best and grumble the most.

The home is the chief school of human virtues.

Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room

Nor need we power or splendor, wide hall or lordly dome; the good, the true, the tender, these form the wealth of home.

Where we love is home. Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.

A comfortable house is a great source of happiness.

Better my own cottage than the palace of another.

Home is a shelter from storms - all sorts of storms.

And each heart is whispering, "Home, home at last!"

I had rather be on my farm than be emperor of the world.

Here's kind of my motto - if you're not happy at home, you're not happy anywhere else.