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

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

His native home deep imag'd in his soul.

His native home deep imag'd in his soul.

What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where read more

What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where the rug's two-fold use we might display,
By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.

A house is not a home.

A house is not a home.

My house, my house, though thou art small, thou art to me the
Escuriall.

My house, my house, though thou art small, thou art to me the
Escuriall.

The house a woman creates is a Utopia. She can't help it -- can't help trying to interest her nearest read more

The house a woman creates is a Utopia. She can't help it -- can't help trying to interest her nearest and dearest not in happiness itself but in the search for it.

Home is the place where it feels right to walk around without shoes

Home is the place where it feels right to walk around without shoes

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

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

The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest read more

The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.