Welcome Home Mrs Jordan Quotes

Now that we have discussed the weather and exchanged compliments, how about showing me your loot? ~ Janet Lambert

Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, ~ Jane Austen

Well, Mimi Mackson, tell me what you like to bake."
"Lots of things- brownies, cookies, pies, tarts, scones. But cupcakes are my favorite. I like to flavor them with unusual spices and herbs."
"I see. And what's the last thing that you made?"
"Double-chocolate brownies with cinnamon and cayenne, to welcome someone home."
"And prior to that?"
"Cheddar-chive biscuits."
She waved her hand in front of her face like she smelled something bad. "No, no, my word, that will not do at all. Just sweet things, please." She stood and paced behind the desk. "Ha! Cheese and chives! I wouldn't dream of baking, eating, or even serving those, not to win the world."
Well, that was strange. Sweet isn't sweet without savory. One isn't good without the other- I thought everyone knew that. Even the most sugary dessert needs a dash of salt.
Mrs. T sat again. "So tell me then, young Mimi. The best sweet thing you've ever, ever made?"
"Hmm... lemon-lavender cupcakes, I guess. To celebrate friendship. ~ Rajani LaRocca

He raised a hand in response and tossed the ear of corn into the wagon. Then he
returned to his fantasy, imagining himself running the livery instead of working there, making the decisions, placing orders, selecting new horses, agreeing to board others, and
hiring a boy to muck out the stalls and pitch hay.
In his daydream, he no longer lived in the back room. He came home at night to a small house he'd bought with his earnings. Inside, a woman waited for him. A wife. In his fantasy her hair was as golden as the ear of corn he tossed into the wagon and her
eyes as blue as the cloudless sky overhead. Catherine smiled at him and he could hear as well as see her say his name. "Jim! Welcome home. ~ Bonnie Dee

They warned me, 'you're going to be doing the screen test with Daniel Radcliffe a week after the audition.' And then in the hair and make up department, he walked up behind and scared me. But you get used to him quickly because he tries to make you feel very welcome and at home. ~ Evanna Lynch

Let us open wide the windows of our hearts, that each family member may feel welcome and 'at home.' Let us open also the doors of our very souls, that the dear ________ may enter. Remember His promise: 'Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him' (Revelation 3:20). ~ Thomas S. Monson

No more can they keep us in
Listen, damn it, we will win
They see it right, they see it well
But they think this saves us from our hell ~ Metallica Welcome Home Sanitarium

An afternoon drive from Los Angeles will take you up into the high mountains, where eagles circle above the forests and the cold blue lakes, or out over the Mojave Desert, with its weird vegetation and immense vistas. Not very far away are Death Valley, and Yosemite, and Sequoia Forest with its giant trees which were growing long before the Parthenon was built; they are the oldest living things in the world. One should visit such places often, and be conscious, in the midst of the city, of their surrounding presence. For this is the real nature of California and the secret of its fascination; this untamed, undomesticated, aloof, prehistoric landscape which relentlessly reminds the traveller of his human condition and the circumstances of his tenure upon the earth. "You are perfectly welcome," it tells him, "during your short visit. Everything is at your disposal. Only, I must warn you, if things go wrong, don't blame me. I accept no responsibility. I am not part of your neurosis. Don't cry to me for safety. There is no home here. There is no security in your mansions or your fortresses, your family vaults or your banks or your double beds. Understand this fact, and you will be free. Accept it, and you will be happy. ~ Christopher Isherwood

Christian Grey: [answers phone] Anastasia.
Anastasia Steele: Yeah, this is me. I'm sending back your expensive books because I already have copies of those. Thanks though for the kind gesture.
Christian Grey: You're welcome. Where are you?
Anastasia Steele: Oh, I'm in line because I have to pee really bad.
Christian Grey: Anastasia, have you been drinking?
Anastasia Steele: [laughs] Yeah! I have, Mr. Fancy Pants. You hit ... you hit the hail on the nead. I mean the head right on the nail.
Christian Grey: Listen to me. I want you to go home right now.
Anastasia Steele: You're so bossy! Ana, let's go for a coffee. No, stay away from me Ana! I don't want you! Get away. Come here, come here! Go away! ~ E.L. James

mad maddie: I GOT ACCEPTED TO SANTA CRUZ!!!!
SnowAngel: omg!!!
zoegirl: maddie!!!! yay!!!!!
mad maddie: i know! it's incredible!
SnowAngel: *squeals and hugs sweet maddie*
SnowAngel: tell us every single detail!!!
mad maddie: well, i got home from school and saw this big thick envelope on the kitchen counter, with "Santa Cruz Admissions Office" as the return address. i got really fidgety and just started screaming, right there in the house. no one was there but me, so i could be as loud as i wanted.
zoegirl: omg!!!
mad maddie: i took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but my hands were shaking. i opened the envelope and pulled out a folder that said, "Welcome to Santa Cruz!" inside was a letter that said, "Dear Madigan. You're in!"
mad maddie: isn't that cool? i LOVE that, that instead of being all prissy and formal, they're like, "you're in! yahootie!"
SnowAngel: oh maddie, i am sooooo happy for u!
mad maddie: i ran out to my car all jumping and hopping around and drove to ian's, cuz i knew neither of u would be home yet. i showed him my letter and he hugged me really hard and lifted me into the air. it was AWESOME.
zoegirl: i'm so proud of u, maddie!
SnowAngel: me 2! ~ Lauren Myracle

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled and twigs and leaves scuffled and rattled past the house. Mr and Mrs White sat in the parlour of their cosy home, in front of a blazing fire. Mr White played chess with his only son, Herbert. His wife sat in a rocking chair knitting and watching as they played. ~ W.W. Jacobs

Now where's this artist?" His eyes darted around the room, landed on Gennie and clung. She thought she saw surprise, quickly veiled, then amusement as quickly suppressed, tug at the corners of his mouth.
"Daniel MacGregor," Grant said with wry formality. "Genvieve Grandeau."
A flicker of recognition ran across Daniel's face before he rose to his rather amazing height and held out his hand. "Welcome."
Gennie's hand was clasped, then enveloped. She had simultaneous impressions of strength, compassion, and stubbornness.
"You have a magnificent home, Mr. MacGregor," she said, studying him candidly. "It suits you."
He gave a great bellow of a laugh that might have shook the windows. "Aye.And three if your paintings hang in the west wing." His eyes slid briefly to Grant's before they came back to hers. "You carry your age well, lass."
She gave him a puzzled look as Grant choked over his Scotch. "Thank you."
"Get the artist a drink," he ordered, then gestured for her to sit in the chair next to his. "Now, tell me why you're wasting your time with a Campbell."
"Gennie happens to be a cousin of mine," Justin said mildly as he sat on the sofa beside his son. "On the aristocratic French side."
"A cousin." Daniel's eys sharpened, then an expression that could only be described as cunning pleasure spread over his face. "Aye,we like to keep things in the family. Grandeau-a good strong name.You've the look of a queen, with a bit of sorceress thro ~ Nora Roberts

Welcome home. Now leave me alone. ~ Trish Doller

I want to observe the ordinary things of earth - the moon, the stars, the rainbows, even the yellow leaves of the old cherry trees - and receive their messages. To hear them say what every weary traveler, every earnest seeker, longs to hear. Welcome home. ~ Christie Purifoy

Bohemians.

These Bohemians, Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Williams, and their seven children, Biff, Tina, Sparky, Louise, Tuffy, Mickey, and Biff Number Two, lived in a notorious artist's colony and planned community.

Naturally, the bohemian's existence thrived on creativity. Early in the morning, Mrs. Williams would rise and create breakfast. Then, Mr. Williams, inspired by his wife's limitless energy, would rush off to a special room and create tiny hairs in a sink. The children would create things, too. But being temperamental artists, they would often flush them away without a second thought.

But the bohemians' creativity didn't stop there. Mr. Williams would then rush off downtown and create reams and reams of papers with numbers on them and send them out to other Bohemians who would create special checks to send to him with figures like $7.27written on them.

At home, the children would be creating unusual music, using only their voices to combine in avant-garde, atonal melodies.

Yes, these were the bohemians. A seething hot-bed of rebellion-the artists, the creators of all things that lie between good and bad. ~ Steve Martin

One summer afternoon Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary. ~ Thomas Pynchon

The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. Their estate was large, and their residence was at Norland Park, in the centre of their property, where, for many generations, they had lived in so respectable a manner as to engage the general good opinion of their surrounding acquaintance. The late owner of this estate was a single man, who lived to a very advanced age, and who for many years of his life, had a constant companion and housekeeper in his sister. But her death, which happened ten years before his own, produced a great alteration in his home; for to supply her loss, he invited and received into his house the family of his nephew Mr. Henry Dashwood, the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, and the person to whom he intended to bequeath it. In the society of his nephew and niece, and their children, the old Gentleman's days were comfortably spent. His attachment to them all increased. The constant attention of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dashwood to his wishes, which proceeded not merely from interest, but from goodness of heart, gave him every degree of solid comfort which his age could receive; and the cheerfulness of the children added a relish to his existence. ~ Jane Austen

I knew that I never wanted to stop walking; I wanted to see places and somehow understand what this thing called earth was all about. There were so many people out there, and I had to meet them. I felt safe and at home on the roads to nowhere, I felt welcome and protected in the unknown land and I fell in love with the people around me. They were so very similar and still so very different from me. I felt their souls connect to my own, and I knew no greater feeling could ever be given to me. ~ Meara O'Hara

This new enemy seeks to destroy our freedom and impose its views. We value life; the terrorists ruthlessly destroy it. We value education; the terrorists do not believe women should be educated or should have health care, or should leave their homes. We value the right to speak our minds; for the terrorists, free expression can be grounds for execution. We respect people of all faiths and welcome the free practice of religion; our enemy wants to dictate how to think and how to worship even to their fellow Muslims. ~ George W. Bush

I wanted to tell her how that praise had made me feel, how starved I'd felt for any kind of attention, that I'd begun to think of my teacher Mrs. Terrance like she was my friend, like she was my mother, like she would take me home with her one day to her big house that would be warm and smell of fresh bread, and there would be gold stars all over the floors and ceilings, and she would look down at me as we walked through the door and tell me that this was my home too, that I would get to stay with her forever because she loved me too. But I couldn't. I couldn't say that to my mother. Even then, I knew the power words had. To heal. To hurt.
So I held my mother while she cried, and eventually the tears subsided, and she began to hiccup softly, and this made me giggle, and she almost looked like she was going to smile at me, and I forgot about the house filled with gold stars because one smile from my mother was worth a billion gold stars and a billion Mrs. Terrances and a billion houses that smelled like fresh bread. ~ T.J. Klune

Mrs. Bright cut another slice of the rich, dark cake. It was Mindy's fourth, counting dessert at home. But Mrs. Bright's layer cakes were, Mindy felt sure, the best in the world. Where else did you find the layers of icing almost as thick as the layers of cake? ~ Jane Louise Curry

She swallowed, watching as the servants and Harry and Bert trooped out of the room. Lad, apparently not the brightest dog in the world, sat down next to Mickey O'Connor and leaned against his leg.
Mr. O'Connor looked at the dog, looked at the damp spot growing on his breeches where the dog was leaning, and sighed. "I find me life is not as quiet as it used to be afore ye came to me palace, Mrs. Hollingbrook."
Silence lifted her chin. "You're a pirate, Mr. O'Connor. I cannot believe your life was ever very quiet."
He gave her an ironic look. "Aye, amazin', isn't it? Yet since yer arrival me servants no longer obey me and I return home to find me kitchen flooded." He crossed to a cupboard and took down a china teapot, a tin of tea, and a teacup. "And me dog smells like a whorehouse."
Silence glanced guiltily at Lad. "The only soap we could find was rose scented. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Let me in! Quick, Caroline!"
Ma opened the door and Pa slammed it quickly behind him. He was out of breath. He pushed back his cap and said: "Whew! I'm scared yet."
"What was it, Charles?" said Ma.
"A panther," Pa said.
He had hurried as fast as he could go to Mr. Scott's. When he got there, the house was dark and everything was quiet. Pa went all around the house, listening, and looking with the lantern. He could not find a sign of anything wrong. So he felt like a fool, to think he had got up and dressed in the middle of the night and walked two miles, all because he heard the wind howl.
He did not want Mr. and Mrs. Scott to know about it. So he did not wake them up. He came home as fast as he could because the wind was bitter cold. And he was hurrying along the path, where it went on the edge of the bluff, when all of a sudden he heard that scream right under his feet.
"I tell you my hair stood up till it lifted my cap," he told Laura. "I lit out for home like a scared rabbit."
"Where was the panther, Pa?" she asked him.
"In a tree-top," said Pa. "In the top of that big cottonwood that grows against the bluffs there."
"Pa, did it come after you?" Laura asked, and he said, "I don't know, Laura."
"Well, you're safe now, Charles," said Ma.
"Yes, and I'm glad of it. This is too dark a night to be out with panthers," Pa said. ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

She's plenty pissed at me. Not as pissed as Rinko but pissed. I can't blame her. I promised her three days and gave her a hundred. This is going to take a time to pass. If it ever does, now that she's moved on to someone else. Still, she went to the hotel with me last night. Was that a welcome home or a good-bye fuck? I guess I'll find out. I'm so fucking good at being patient. I ~ Richard Kadrey

Miss Kay

Alan had a run-in with the police one Sunday morning while he was in New Orleans and as best he can recall, one of the officers said to him, "Let me talk to you. What are your mom and dad doing right now?"
"They're in church, where they always go," Alan answered.
"I knew," said the officer, "that you were raised different." In other words, the policeman could tell Alan was not what some people might call a "common criminal." The officer went on to speak some very strong words: "You have just done something really bad. Whatever you're doing here, pack it up. Go home and live like your mom and dad; go live like you were raised. I don't know your parents, but I have a feeling they will welcome you back like the Prodigal Son."
Phil and I had not been able to get through to Alan or influence him to change his ways while he was living with us, but that policeman in New Orleans sure got through to him. Sometimes we wonder if that policeman was an angel. Whether he was or was not, God definitely used him to get Alan back where he needed to be.
Alan left "the Big Easy" right away and came back to us. He started walking with God again; he reconnected with Lisa. He and Phil began studying the Bible together; Phil baptized him in the river by our house, and he has been a totally different person ever since. ~ Korie Robertson

LIFE IN ALEXANDRA was exhilarating and precarious. Its atmosphere was alive, its spirit adventurous, its people resourceful. Although the township did boast some handsome buildings, it could fairly be described as a slum, living testimony to the neglect of the authorities. The roads were unpaved and dirty, and filled with hungry, undernourished children scampering around half-naked. The air was thick with the smoke from coal fires in tin braziers and stoves. A single water tap served several houses. Pools of stinking, stagnant water full of maggots collected by the side of the road. Alexandra was known as "Dark City" for its complete absence of electricity. Walking home at night was perilous, for there were no lights, the silence pierced by yells, laughter, and occasional gunfire. So different from the darkness of the Transkei, which seemed to envelop one in a welcome embrace. ~ Nelson Mandela

She feels so good and welcoming, like home. Reluctantly, I relinquish her, and Bob gives me an awkward one-armed hug. He seems unsteady on his feet, and I remember that he's hurt his leg. "Welcome back, Ana. Why you cryin'?" he asks. "Aw, Bob, I'm just pleased to see you, too." I stare up into his handsome square-jawed face and his twinkling blue eyes that gaze at me fondly. I like this husband, Mom. You can keep him. He takes my backpack. "Jeez, Ana, what have you got in here?" That would be the Mac, and they both put their arms around me as we head for the parking lot. I always forget how unbearably hot it is in Savannah. Leaving the cool air-conditioned confines of the arrival terminal, we step into the Georgia heat like we're wearing it. Whoa! It saps everything. I have to struggle out of Mom and Bob's embrace so ~ E.L. James

WELCOME HOME, FOLKS
WE'RE GOING TO MAKE IT ~ Joan Bauer

A white lie is not a lie at all. It is where you tell the truth but you do not tell all of the truth. This means that everything you say is a white lie because when someone says, for example, "What do you want to do today?" you say, "I want to do painting with Mrs. Peters," but you don't say, "I want to have my lunch and I want to go to the toilet and I want to go home after school and I want to play with Toby and I want to have my supper ~ Mark Haddon

There's a scene [in the 1990 film Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael] in my bedroom where I start eating Almond Roca. I was so young. It was before I knew the tricks of moviemaking, and I didn't know you shoot a lot of different angles. I gobbled them and didn't realize I had to keep doing it. So I had to eat 64 Almond Roca that day. I got so sick. In the beginning you're like, 'Ooh, that looks good.' But hours later, no. ~ Winona Ryder

We rolled apart…. We spoke coherently to each other for the first time since bedding down. "Hello," she said. "Hello," I said. "Welcome home," she said. ~ Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Perhaps if you win this one I can put a word in for you.You know, extra carrots and that sort of thing, a bit of molasses in the evening.A bigger brass plaque for your box at home."
"That's bribery," Keeley murmured.
Brian turned, his eyes going warm. "That's bargaining," he corrected. "But if I can interest you in a bribe," he began and opened the box door intending to snatch Keeley inside for a much anticipated welcome back kiss.
He nearly stepped over Mo. "Sorry. Didn't see you there."
"I'm short.That's my cross to bear. ~ Nora Roberts

When you open your heart to a stranger you have welcomed another heart into your home. ~ Anthony T. Hincks

Even as we implement the nuclear deal and welcome our Americans home, we recognize that there remain about differences between the United States and Iran. We remain steadfast in opposing Iran's destabilizing behavior elsewhere, including its against Israel and our Gulf partners and its support for violent proxies in places like Syria and Yemen. ~ Barack Obama

For every person who might reject you if you live your truth, there are ten others who will embrace you and welcome you home. ~ Marianne Williamson

Beds empty! No note! Car gone - could have crashed - out of my mind with worry - did you care? - never, as long as I've lived - you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy - "
"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.
"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job - "
It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away.
"I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. ~ J.K. Rowling

If I could take all my parts with me when I go somewhere, and not have to to say to one of them, 'No, you stay home tonight, you won't be welcome,' because I'm going to an all-white party where I can be gay, but not Black. Or I'm going to a Black poetry reading, and half the poets are anti-homosexual or thousands of situations where something of what I am cannot come with me. The day all the different parts of me can come along, we would have what I would call a revolution. ~ Pat Parker

Governments of the Industrial World, you weary giants of flesh and steel, I come from Cyberspace, the new home of Mind. On behalf of the future, I ask you of the past to leave us alone. You are not welcome among us. You have no sovereignty where we gather. ~ David Brin

I love Africa....... Each day each breath, she consumes me. I have never changed so much In such a short time Each day I feel more part of her. Her colour, smell, her smiles , the ever changing landscapes. Vast deserts rolling hills plaines & Mountains. Her beauty and her majesty. Like sweet wine flowing through my veins, my heart sings as I wave to all those faces going by. Back home to my Grandmothers Birth place. They said "welcome home", those village boys. How did they know? You all said I would cry, I thought no, but yes I often do. Not for their pain but for their happiness . I cry now, together hearts will sing ," I love Africa". See her now as I write.. Kilimanjaro , it doesn't get much better .Tears on a hard mans face. There is no time but now , no words just peace. Thousands of smiling faces, the mass of souls are singing out . Yes I see and feel it now.... In those trees I sense the Spirits of our saving , could it be our looking for? Sailing ships a familiar shore, now I'm crying happy and singing . Thoughts intense of please no more. I love Africa. An epiphany I can't explain .Not like the ancient rituals , sound of rain, and men together by campfires. Beginning to end but there really is no such thing as time, just imaginings. We still love sitting by the camp fire and we love listening to the rain? I love Africa the Eden and our Birthplace , Man.
How can I explain to you my friend what I have seen and felt unless you too have seen it all ... Africa. ~ Michael Burke

Oh! welcome to the wearied Earth
The Sabbath resting comes,
Gathering the sons of toil and care
Back to their peaceful homes;
And, like a portal to the skies,
Opens the House of God,
Where all who seek may come and learn
The way the Saviour trod.
But holier to the wanderer seems
The Sabbath on the deep,
When on, and on, in ceaseless course,
The toiling bark must keep,
And not a trace of man appears
Amid the wilderness
Of waters
then it comes like dove
Direct from heaven to bless. ~ Sarah Josepha Hale

In a century or two this planet will have been destroyed by external cosmic forces or by the senseless activity of the human race. Human life is a freak phenomenon, soon to be blotted out. That is a consoling thought. Meanwhile we are surrounded by strange invisible entities, possibly your angels."

"I hope so."

"Ah, you think they are good, they cannot be good, there is no good, the tendency to evil is overwhelming. One has only to think of the horrors of sex, its violence, its cruelty, its filthy vulgarity, its descent into bestial degradation. You had better go and dream in your monastery."

"Would you come and visit me there?"

"Of course not. I do not visit. Only, unfortunately, am sometimes visited."

"You don't want to discuss - you know - what happened? My priest said - "

"No."

"I care about how you are, I love you."

"You still fail to realise how this sort of talk sickens me. Now please go. This will do for a welcome home scene. Tell them not to come. I desire to be left alone. ~ Iris Murdoch

A wonderful, warm, positive individual who exhibits the values that are prerequisite to a significant faculty post in higher education, I think that it is an absolutely extraordinary and bold career move that Darwin has made in leaving the Orchestra and embarking on the trajectory of a solo performer/educator. And what a marvelous thing it is for Detroit to be able to welcome home a successful native son - one in whom the community can take pride, and one who will serve as an inspiration to a younger generation of aspiring performers eager to make their mark in the world. ~ David Cerone

It is dismal coming home, when there is nobody to welcome one! ~ Ann Radcliffe

At that moment, the back door opened, and Great-grandfather wheeled himself outside. Slowly and carefully, Hannah stepped through the door behind him. Aunt Blythe followed, balancing a tray loaded with a pitcher of lemonade and five glasses.
"Come along, you two," Hannah called.
"Tarnation," Andrew muttered. "Am I going to have to see that jackass today?" Without letting me help, he levered himself out of the chair with his cane. "I bet Hannah woke the old coot up just to make me miserable."
When we joined the others on the porch, Great-grandfather refused to look at us. Keeping his head down, he fidgeted with the blanket on his lap.
"This is a fine way to greet me," Andrew said.
"Maybe he doesn't recognize you." Aunt Blythe bent down to peer into Great-grandfather's face. "Your cousins are here, Father. Can you say hello to Hannah and Andrew?"
"It's my house," he mumbled. "They can't have it."
Andrew looked as if he wanted to give his cousin a punch in the nose, but Hannah intervened. "We know the house is yours, Edward," she said. "Don't worry, we haven't come to take it back. Andrew and I have our own home."
Great-grandfather raised his head and stared at Hannah. "You never liked me. Neither did your brothers. I wasn't welcome in this house when you lived here. Now it's mine and you're not welcome."
Ignoring Aunt Blythe's protests, Great-grandfather wheeled himself toward the back door. "You and your Roosevelt," he muttered befo ~ Mary Downing Hahn

How could I relax when I had to welcome Christian into my home, the one who had wounded me deeper than anyone, the one who haunted my days and held me in my dreams? ~ A.L. Jackson