Quotes About Comfort

Maybe the day hadn't gone exactly right, but the day had been lived and the house had been there for it's family.--Two for the Dough--

fault." Ranger tightened his hold on my neck.

You were my home, Mother. I had no home but you

We have no home, she told me. I am your home.

Isn't it funny. I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than I ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you. It's so soothing. I feel infinitely better now.

If only we could be back there right now, a soft rain falling, in the cabin, the woodstove.

Death like a lover, caressing him, promising him peace, running its fingers through his hair, its tongue in his ear.

She was a woman for whom a man would buy a diamond ring or a new car, just to cheer her up.

He did this not only for us, but for everyone who witnessed that day. And for those like you who hear of it. He did this to show that even in the darkest hour, when there is no reason to go forward, no possibility of a better tomorrow, he is there to comfort, to guide, to heal. He brings with him the gift of hope. Impossible, glorious, joyful hope.

God is like that, Virginia concluded. He's always on duty. Moving from one need to another. Always there- for everyone. He'll get us through this. He has a way.

But I refused to mope about for the evening. My little ritual with teacup, familiar chair, and a favorite Dickens story went a long way toward improving my outlook.

Linux remained where he was, more comfortable with his solitary position at the table than he'd ever been before. He felt a childlike ease, so protected, so accepted he could expose his most hidden weaknesses and fears and uncertainties and know all was well, all forgiven, all blessed. The stone he had carried inside was finally dissolving. Inner wounds were now open to healing light, and the gift of hope was like an illumination around him.

sharing my cozy home with the mice.

I didn't feel comfortable with this new world. My northern isolation had protected me from all this.

I'm not gonna say something unless I really feel comfortable around you. Unless I feel like I know you, I'm not gonna really open up.

I'm always in my pajamas, unless I know for a fact that people are taking my picture.

Unlike F. Scott Fitzgerald and Tom Wolfe, I don't like proper dress while working. I like writing in pajama-like clothing, which eases and relaxes me and allows me to connect with the decidedly improper.

I love having an unlimited supply of cocoa butter.

I wanted to have a home where I could go home and unlock my door and go in and be settled. I was tired of being a gypsy.

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.

So many girls second-think their pose or what they're doing. And, in turn, the photos will come out really unnatural. I say to really give the camera a performance - that, and make sure you're comfortable with how you look, and give it a good smile and a filter.

I bought a pair of Carpe Diem boots, which were completely unnecessary and hideously expensive, but they make me feel quite fine and dandy.

So easy to fall into a rut, isn't it? Why should ruts be so comfortable and so unpopular?

I'm a believer, but an unsettled one. I think it has something to do with the fact that my grandmother always told me she would come back and tickle my feet at night time when she passed away. She hasn't gotten me yet. But I keep the blanket over my feet at night, no matter how hot it is.