Quotes About Comfort

How can you have a book for a friend?" Abby asked. "You can't talk to them." "No, but they can take you away to another place. With books, the world feels safe.

Swedish-ish Meatballs 1 can of condensed cream of mushroom soup 2 cups of beef broth 1 envelope onion soup mix 2 14-oz bags of frozen meatballs

pound mutt that doesn't belong in a hospital." "Oh." Mrs. Riley's eyes filled with tears. "We had a dog. A small Yorkie. She died a few months ago. I know Kalinda misses her terribly. I remember reading something about hospitals using therapy dogs. Do you think that would help?" She was a mother who loved her

I'm saying you're comfortable. That makes it hard to do the work that change requires.

From the outside, it wasn't much. But to her it was everything she needed. A place to retreat and lick her wounds. Somewhere she didn't have to pretend. Sanctuary.

Home isn't a safe place where everything stays the same; it's a place where you are safe and loved despite nothing staying the same.

I don't know very many people who can piece together eloquent prayers when their souls are wounded. Words don't come at those times, but tears do. I have always thought of my tears as prayers.

Home is the normal--whatever place you happen to start from and return to without having to answer questions. It's a metaphor that may seem to fit reduced expectations. We no longer seek towers that would reach to the heavens; we've abandoned attempts to prove that we live in a chain of being whose every link bears witness to the glory of God. We merely seek assurance that we find ourselves in a place where we know our way about.

My house feels like home when you're there.

Lucy settled into August's kitchen as if they were a family.

David? she asked as they approached an elevator. She was a little uncertain about doors that opened and closed by themselves and little boxes that went up and down. She supposed she'd just have to cope. Yes? he asked. She rested her head on his shoulder. How should we celebrate our eight hundredth wedding anniversary? Hmm? How about with a good night's sleep? Suits me. Together they walked into the little moving box.

Wherever people feel safe (...) they will be indifferent.

Wherever people feel safe—this was her bitter, self-accusing point—they will be indifferent.

No, a home is not where your heart is, it's where your effort is. It's where you cook and eat and sleep and take pains to decorate. It's where your memories are made and kept. It's the photos on the mantel, the artwork on the walls, the blankets that you snuggle under, the trees and flowers that you plant and care for.

That's how it is with infants. The minute the pain's gone, so are the tears. If more people would do that, the world would be a happier place.

ear. "Listen, we have our health, and a roof over our heads, food to eat, and books to read. We're doing okay, kiddo.

What is home? Maybe it's not a place, but a moment in time. When I was safe. Secure. Cared for. Home. It's more than a point on a map. It's a sensation. A feeling of comfort—feet

Aw, Gran." Annie had been fighting tears from the moment she'd boarded the train from New York. "Please don't leave me." "I won't," she said with a gentle smile. "Keep me in your heart, and you'll always know where to find me.

I'm heading over to visit Tess for some tea and sympathy. I don't like tea, Ollie said. What's sympathy taste like? Natalie laughed and ruffled his hair, then got back in the car. Like a melted marshmallow with chocolate sauce.

Blythe's favorite shelf near the coffee area. She'd labeled it W.O.W. (WORDS OF WISDOM) and it was stocked with her perennial favorites with bookmarked passages. Natalie used to love browsing that shelf. A book would never betray you or change its mind or make you feel stupid. She took down The Once and Future King and found a marked passage: The best thing for being sad, replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails.

Isabel felt soft and yielding; her blouse felt soft. Everything about her seemed soft, and she smelled of dried flowers, rosemary, fresh baked bread. This whole kitchen seemed alive with a peculiar energy; in the old fixtures and furniture, Tess sensed a place where cooking and eating had happened for decades, where people gathered to sample life's sweetest pleasures.

Her sandwiches were beyond delicious. Pimento cheese, smoked meatloaf, egg salad, roast beef and remoulade, honey butter biscuits and fried chicken… Folks lived for her food.

When she was little and a bad dream woke her, Gran would advise her to change the channel by turning her pillow over. It worked every time.

Never let anyone tell you that food isn't a kind of love. Yet