Home Quotes
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I am confined to the Lego palate. I don't paint the bricks. I stick with what Lego has made. And the idea behind that is I do want to hopefully inspire kids to go home and create on their own. And if I do, I want them to be able to buy those very same bricks I use. So I don't alter the bricks; I just use what's provided.
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In the Seventies, my children played in the street, read politically incorrect stories, ate home-cooked food and occasional junk and, yes, were sometimes smacked.
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I've always performed. I've done plays at home.
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I got a horse when I was eight or 10 years old. And dad used to take me to the rodeo back home. I got into it big time.
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Obama's presence opened a new field for writers, and what began as curiosity about the man himself eventually expanded into curiosity about the community he had so consciously made his home and all the old, fitfully slumbering questions he'd awakened about American identity.
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The Pacific Remote Islands Marine National Monument may be distant from our shores, but it will help us understand how healthy marine ecosystems work and how we can revive troubled seas closer to home.
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I can be the nice family man at home, and then when I go to the gym, maybe sparring with someone, I switch into beast mode. It ain't pretty.
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Off pitch, I keep things simple. I enjoy spending time with my family. I never forget my roots and regularly give back to children in West Africa. I support several youth associations, and I am also involved in the protection of the forest in my country [Ivory Coast]. When away from home, I mostly miss people and enjoying a good laugh with my peers.
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To me, the most emotional thing is to see regular people wearing our clothes. Yes, sometimes I see our clothes on somebody, and I think, 'No!', but you can't stop someone in the street and say, 'Please go home and change.'
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I work with my brother Finneas, and he produces all of my music in his little bedroom in our house. We actually tried renting out a studio for a month when we were producing 'Don't Smile at Me,' but it was really hard there, and we ended up just doing it at home anyway.
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For the love of God, folks, don't try this at home.
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Home of lost causes, and forsaken beliefs, and unpopular names, and impossible loyalties!
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My father made false teeth. Unfortunately, during the Depression, not many people could afford them, and my parents lost their home.
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Workplaces still operate like it's 1962 and one person is always at home, and they are not very good at adjusting for the fact that a majority of women work and take care of children.
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What I see as the particularly exciting prospect for writing horror fiction as we go forward is setting stories in more internal landscapes than external ones, mapping out the mind as the home for scary things instead of the house at the end of the lane or lakeside campground or abandoned amusement park.
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History is not a long series of centuries in which men did all the interesting/important things and women stayed home and twiddled their thumbs in between pushing out babies, making soup and dying in childbirth.
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This may sound funny, but I feel my most beautiful when I'm clean, fresh out of the bath. I don't have to be dressed up. I could be in comfy clothes at home hanging out with my family.
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No matter where I am in the world, I will always be back home for Christmas.
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Playing gangsters is great. They usually dress you sharp. And you have a license to pretty much bully anybody. I mean, I wouldn't dare do that at home. My wife will give me a back hander.
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In hell there's a big hotel where the bar just closed and the windows never opened. No phone so you can't call home, and the TV works, but the clicker is broken.
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By visiting patients in their home, by helping them come to terms with their illness, I could heal when I could not cure.
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By the end of high school, I would do shows at the theater at night and then take the train home and go to school the next morning.
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Both my parents worked, so I was home alone a lot, and I would listen to their records. They belonged to the Columbia House record club, so they had records!
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Our parents came home one day and heard us, and they thought it was the radio, but our grandfather told them it was us.
