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Most Read This Week Tagged "Home"

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7)

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter, #6)

The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night Time

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Harry Potter, #1)

Domino: The Book of Decorating: A Room-by-Room Guide to Creating a Home That Makes You Happy

Apartment Therapy Presents Real Homes, Real People, Hundreds of Real Design Solutions

Harry Potter et L'Ordre du Phenix (Harry Potter, #5)

Lists

クッキングパパ 1 [Cooking Papa 1] by Tochi Ueyama

The Way of the Househusband, Vol. 1 by Kousuke Oono

ひゃくにちかん!! 1 [Hyakunichikan!! 1] by Kokone Nata

How to Grill Our Love, Vol. 1 by Shiori Hanatsuka

Domestic life, Family, and Childhood (incl. early childhood)

15 books — 3 voters

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Organizing from the Inside Out by Julie Morgenstern

The House that Cleans Itself by Mindy Starns Clark

Cleaning House

78 books — 55 voters

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

The 52 Book Club December 2025 Mini Bingo - #1 Feels Like Home

78 books — 10 voters

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling

Growing up Wired by David Wallace Fleming

Most Interesting Settings

73 books — 10 voters

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum

The House That Sailed Away by Pat Hutchins

House Goes Walkabout - Floats away, sails away, etc. from foundations

22 books — 3 voters

The Overnight Guest by Heather Gudenkauf

How to Solve Your Own Murder by Kristen Perrin

No One Would Do What the Lamberts Have Done by Sophie Hannah

The 52 Book Club's Mystery Genre Challenge - #46 A House On The Cover

74 books — 9 voters

Featured News & Interviews

New Holiday Books for Cozy Winter Reading

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Quotes Tagged “Home”

“ I live in my own little world. But its ok, they know me here. ”
― Lauren Myracle

2056 likes

“ For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow. Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail. A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live. When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all. A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother. So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness. ...more ”
― Herman Hesse, Bäume: Betrachtungen und Gedichte

5060 likes

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