Lapham’s Quarterly

A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in / A minute to smile and an hour to weep in.

Being offended is the natural consequence of leaving one’s home.

God walks among the pots and pans.

For what do we live but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?

I quit life as from an inn, not as from a home.

Hospitality consists in a little fire, a little food, and an immense quiet.

Many a man who thinks to found a home discovers that he has merely opened a tavern for his friends.

An American will build a house in which to pass his old age and sell it before the roof is on.

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

Home is the girl’s prison and the woman’s workhouse.

Every house: temple, empire, school.

Hatred of domestic work is a natural and admirable result of civilization.

The home is a human institution. All human institutions are open to improvement.

Every man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native place.

An exile with no home anywhere is a corpse without a grave.

Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.

It’s your business when your neighbor’s wall is in flames.

One who is frivolous all day will never establish a household.

The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

At the worst, a house unkept cannot be so distressing as a life unlived.

Charity begins at home, and justice begins next door.

People can say what they like about the eternal verities, love and truth and so on, but nothing’s as eternal as the dishes.

Men are merriest when they are from home.