It's simple: You get a part. You play a part. You play it well. You do your work and you go home. And what is wonderful about movies is that once they're done they belong to the people. Once you make it it's what they see. That's where my head is at.

I usually write away from home in coffee shops on trains on planes in friends' houses. I like places where there's stuff going on that you can lift your eyes see something interesting overhear a conversation.

Atlanta's my musical home. It really was the place where I really came alive.

Performers are so vulnerable. They're frightened of humiliation sure their work will be crap. I try to make an environment where it's warm where it's OK to fail - a kind of home I suppose.

I have become a queer mixture of the East and the West out of place everywhere at home nowhere.

Beer is not a good cocktail-party drink especially in a home where you don't know where the bathroom is.

I came here in 1974 to do a play and then I went to L.A. I really like living in America. I feel more at home here than anywhere else.

I'm an afternoon tea type of girl. I come from a Russian background where we love our teas. So between lunch and dinner after training I come home and I love a nice cup of tea with jam in it as we drink it there. Black English Breakfast with raspberry jam is my favorite.

I'm still living the life where you get home and open the fridge and there's half a pot of yogurt and a half a can of flat Coca-Cola.

Philosophy is properly home-sickness the wish to be everywhere at home.

I love coming home to Melbourne. The first thing I do is have a coffee. It's just so much better here than anywhere else. It's better than in Italy and I travel a lot. I crave it.

Sometimes in the past when I played something might make me lose focus or I would go home after a game where I thought I could have played better and I would let it hang over my head for a long time when it shouldn't.

I feel most at home in the water. I disappear. That's where I belong.

Just take the ball and throw it where you want to. Throw strikes. Home plate don't move.

Kill all the rich people. Break up their cars and apartments. Bring the revolution home kill your parents that's where it's really at.

Let architects sing of aesthetics that bring Rich clients in hordes to their knees Just give me a home in a great circle dome Where stresses and strains are at ease.

Where there is a mother in the home matters go well.

Here's kind of my motto - if you're not happy at home you're not happy anywhere else.

I would like to spend the whole of my life traveling if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend at home.

I take my children everywhere but they always find their way back home.

One never reaches home but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time.

I've always looked for the perfect life to step into. I've taken all the paths to get where I wanted.But no matter where I go I still come home me.

What power can poverty have over a home where loving hearts are beating with a consciousness of untold riches of the head and heart?

I never come back home with the same moral character I went out with something or other becomes unsettled where I had achieved internal peace some one or other of the things I had put to flight reappears on the scene.