But he was no longer in Tollygunge. He had stepped out of it as he had stepped so many mornings out of his dreams, its reality and its particular logic rendered meaningless in the light of day. The difference was so extreme that he could not accommodate the two places together in his mind. In this enormous new country, there seemed to be nowhere for the old to reside. There was nothing to link them; he was the sole link. Here life ceased to obstruct or assault him. Here was a place where humanity was not always pushing, rushing, running as if with a fire at its back. Jhumpa Lahiri
For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.
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Stephanie Perkins
The desire to go home that is a desire to be whole, to know where you are, to be the point of intersection of all the lines drawn through all the stars, to be the constellation-maker and the center of the world, that center called...
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Rebecca Solnit
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.
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Pascal Mercier
Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter...
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Sarah Dessen
A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.
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Margaret Atwood
More Quotes By Jhumpa Lahiri
Pack a pillow and blanket and see as much of the world as you can. You will not regret it.
Try to remember it always, " he said once Gogol had reached him, leading him slowly back across the breakwater, to where his mother and Sonia stood waiting. "Remember that you and I made this journey together to a place where there was nowhere left...
Pet names are a persistant remnant of childhood, a reminder that life is not always so serious, so formal, so complicated. They are a reminder, too, that one is not all things to all people.
There were times Ruma felt closer to her mother in death than she had in life, an intimacy born simply of thinking of her so often, of missing her. But she knew that this was an illusion, a mirage, and that the distance between them...
The knowledge of death seemed present in both sisters–it was something about the way they carried themselves, something that had broken too soon and had not mended, marking them in spite of their lightheartedness.
