Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.


Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserved; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room, from which we go forth to more careful and guarded intercourse, leaving behind us much debris of cast-off and everyday clothing.


Home is the most popular, and will be the most enduring of all earthly establishments.


Home is the place where we are treated the best, but grumble the most.


Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.


Home is where the heart is.


Home is where there's one to love us.


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


Houses are built to live in, and not to look on: therefore let use be preferred before uniformity.


Housework is what a woman does that nobody notices unless she hasn't done it.


I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society.


I have been photographing our toilet, that glossy enameled receptacle of extraordinary beauty. Here was every sensuous curve of the ''human figure divine'' but minus the imperfections. Never did the Greeks reach a more significant consummation to their culture, and it somehow reminded me, in the glory of its chaste convulsions and in its swelling, sweeping, forward movement of finely progressing contours, of the Victory of Samothrace.


I live in my house as I live inside my skin: I know more beautiful, more ample, more sturdy and more picturesque skins: but it would seem to me unnatural to exchange them for mine.


I want a house that has got over all its troubles; I don't want to spend the rest of my life bringing up a young and inexperienced house.


If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.


If men lived like men indeed, their houses would be temples — temples which we should hardly dare to injure, and in which it would make us holy to be permitted to live; and there must be a strange dissolution of natural affection, a strange unthankfulness for all that homes have given and parents taught, a strange consciousness that we have been unfaithful to our fathers honor, or that our own lives are not such as would make our dwellings sacred to our children, when each man would fain build to himself, and build for the little revolution of his own life only.


If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.


In the matter of furnishing, I find a certain absence of ugliness far worse than ugliness.


It is the personality of the mistress that the home expresses. Men are forever guests in our homes, no matter how much happiness they may find there.


It is, indeed, at home that every man must be known by those who would make a just estimate either of his virtue or felicity; for smiles and embroidery are alike occasional, and the mind is often dressed for show in painted honor, and fictitious benevolence.

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