If I was ever glad to have gone, I was never glad to go. — Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin
If I was ever glad to have gone, I was never glad to go. — Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin
If I was ever glad to have gone, I was never glad to go. — Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin
If I was ever glad to have gone, I was never glad to go. — Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin
If I was ever glad to have gone, I was never glad to go. — Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin
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If I was ever glad to have gone, I was never glad to go.

— Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin
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homesickness longing travel

More “Homesickness” Quotes

Traveling, she realized, was like a slow dismemberment of the body. It plucked the heart out of her and split it into pi — Rhian J. Martin, A Different Familiar
Do you know what the luckiest thing is?’‘No.’‘It is to be at home everywhere. — Ben Okri, The Age of Magic
Homesickness is absolutely nothing. Fifty percent of the people in the world are homesick all the time. You don't really — John Cheever, The Brigadier and the Golf Widow
...the longer she had lived away, the more she realized that nowhere became home… though everywhere had. — Susan Ornbratt, The Particular Appeal of Gillian Pugsley
For this I weep all my daysand throughout my lifetime grievethat I swam from my own landsand came from familiar lands    — Elias Lönnrot, The Kalevala
She thought it was strange that the mere sensation of savouring the prospect of something could make her think for a whi — Colm Tóibín, Brooklyn
Never complete. Never whole.White skin and an African soul. — Michelle Frost
There are many sadnesses in the hearts of men who are far away from their countries. — Alexander McCall Smith, The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency
I gave way to a wave of home-sickness that almost shames me now when I recollect it. I find it impossible in cold blood, — H.V. Morton, In Search Of England
he wished he could have roots spreading under every inch of his lost soil, his beloved lost home, that he could have bee — Salman Rushdie, Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights
My father says you remember the smell of your country no matter where you are but only recognize it when you're far away — Aglaja Veteranyi, Warum das Kind in der Polenta kocht
Love is when you have not been home for three months and call up home and your daughter picks up the phone and says "Pap — Avijeet Das