A Quote by Evangeline Lilly

Every night I bring home flowers and burn candles. And I have a real sense that home is what starts everything inside of you. — © Evangeline Lilly
Every night I bring home flowers and burn candles. And I have a real sense that home is what starts everything inside of you.
My life is routine-obsessed. I'm OCD, and if I'm not at home, I always get up early and exercise. I don't crash and burn at night, not these days, so early-ish to bed. At home, I have three small boys who bring me down to earth with school runs and endless meals.
I will light candles this Christmas, Candles of joy, despite all sadness, Candles of hope where despair keeps watch. Candles of courage where fear is ever present, Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days, Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens. Candles of love to inspire all my living, Candles that will burn all the year long.
Home is a blueprint of memory...Finding home is crucial to the act of writing. Begin here. With what you know. With the tales you've told dozens of times...with the map you've already made in your heart. That's where the real home is: inside. If we carry that home with us all the time, we'll be able to take more risks. We can leave on wild excursions, knowing we'll return home.
My home is my castle, and I spend a lot of time nurturing it, redecorating - moving this and adjusting that, adding flowers and candles.
I'm a fan of creating the mood and vibe with flowers, candles, and music. I love making my guests feel like it's not formal and they can relax in my home.
Nothing can bring a real sense of security into the home except true love.
Mizzou was my real family. I loved it. Football was a sense of home. A home I never had.
I bring incense, essential oils, and candles to make my hotel room feel more like home.
I don't know why, but the warmth and the comfort of flickering light help. And a fire, in the fireplace or on the beach, is very comforting. I think when you make something consistent and familiar, it helps. I light candles every single night in my home.
Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home. Clare sighs, turns her head, and is quiet. Hi, honey. I'm home. I'm home.
The only people for me are the mad ones: the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who... burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles.
Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home – they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space.
Your real home isn't your patterned self. It isn't your thinking. It isn't your feeling. Your real home is the deepest within that you know the truth of. Your real home, your only home, is direct knowledge.
If St. Andrews is the home of golf, I think Pebble Beach feels like the home of American golf, like the home of championship golf. It has a real sense of history here.
Home is where children find safety and security, where we find our identities, where citizenship starts. It usually starts with believing you're part of a community, and that is essential to having a stable home.
Awards go up at Mum and Dad's, but home is home, and I don't like to bring the office home.
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