“All you men still have the Victorian hangover. I suppose you think woman’s place is in the home, too?” “Not my home.”

“Have you ever been to a place you're supposed to love, but all you can think about is home?”

“Sometimes you have to be alone to think, and sometimes the best place for thinking isn't home.”

“I still think of myselfas a broken place, a drifting islewith no home.—Quebrado”

“...I decided I'd changed my mind about home. Home was not Pensacola San Diego Guam or any of the other places we might have lived. In fact home wasn't any particular place at all. Home was my family. Even if they didn't get my jokes sometimes.”

“It’s funny. When you leave your home and wander really far, you always think, ‘I want to go home.’ But then you come home, and of course it’s not the same. You can’t live with it, you can’t live away from it. And it seems like from then on there’s always this yearning for some place that doesn’t exist. I felt that. Still do. I’m never completely at home anywhere.”