House Quotes
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There was a time, in the nineteenth century, for example, when women spoke mostly about the house, children, birth, and so forth, because it was their domain. That's changing a little, now.
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When a man says, "Get out of my house! what would you have with my wife?" there is no answer to be made.
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I cant stand those food cult people who bring their own food into the house. All those little thermoses and paper bags-it makes the other guests uncomfortable.
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Cleaning the house while the children are home is like shoveling while it's still snowing.
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Some holiday traditions are sacred. In our house one such tradition is the annual Christmas classic cinema celebration.
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I think a house should reflect the interests and personality of the occupant, but it takes time to gather together the objects one likes around oneself.
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I used to pride myself on the fact that I kept a house running and never burdened anybody.
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This afternoon, burn down the house. Tomorrow, pour critical water upon the simmering coals. Time enough to think and cut and rewrite tomorrow. But today-explode-f ly-apart-disint egrate! The other six or seven drafts are going to be pure torture. So why not enjoy the first draft, in the hope that your joy will seek and find others in the world who, by reading your story, will catch fire, too?
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What impressed me most about New York were its huge apartment houses.
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I married a woman who loves to camp, and I am what you would call "indoorsy"... My wife always brings up, "Camping's a tradition in my family." Hey, it was a tradition in everyone's family 'til we came up with the house.
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My shoes are worth more......than your house!
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He had never liked October. Ever since he had first lay in the autumn leaves before his grandmother's house many years ago and heard the wind and saw the empty trees. It had made him cry, without a reason. And a little of that sadness returned each year to him. It always went away with spring. But, it was a little different tonight. There was a feeling of autumn coming to last a million years. There would be no spring. ("The October Game")
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Perhaps when we're forced to forfeit what we own, we lose any sentimental associations. Perhaps pawning our valuables frees us in the same way a house fire destroys not only our worldly goods, but our attachment to what's gone.
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I have a horror of boring someone or, worse still, of someone boring me. I said to my mother when I was seven, 'But, Mums, if it was only my husband and me in the house together, what would we talk about?' I've never wanted to answer my own question, and doubt I'll bother now.
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I've always enjoyed the record shops...they gave me a reason to leave my house.
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You always have to appeal to your audience. You always have to consider how well your project will do in terms of admissions. I abandoned many stories because of that. But I don't get too down about it. It's something I accepted from the time I decided to work in films. I could always do something else if I got sick of it, like draw manga, or make my own films. I found it pointless sitting in my house not working, though I'd like to go on extended vacations from time to time.
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Is it no imputation to be arraigned before this House, in which I have sat forty years, and to have my name transmitted to posterity with disgrace and infamy?
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Video games paid for my house. What am I saying? Go ahead and keep playing!
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I had a house burn down once, and everything in life burned except my family, and it was so liberating. I didn't have a bad moment about it. It sort of reinvigorated my interest in a lot of things. I wonder if there should be some kind of anarchy.
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I made my own house be my gallows.
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No home anymore. Nowhere to return. My house is a ruin, a cemetery. You may yearn for the grave, but just try living there.
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In Google's world, public space is just something that stands between your house and the well-reviewed restaurant that you are dying to get to.
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Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven't the answer to a question you've been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause in a roomful of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you're all alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful, if you listen carefully.
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If I walk into my house and something is askew, I can't do anything until I fix it. It's so burdensome to live that way.
