Zitat des Tages über Heimweg / Way Home:
He told me he was working as an interpreter in a doctor's office in Brookline, Massachusetts, where I was living at the time, and he was translating for a doctor who had a number of Russian patients. On my way home, after running into him, I just heard this phrase in my head.
I feel truth, beauty, love, grief, anger, intimacy & alive in my body... Women in the global south live in their bodies much more than we in the global north. Not as distracted by patriarchy's controlling images - They know power is in their bodies. I am deeply grateful for the women who showed me the way home.
I used to think the store detective had followed me all the way home and would knock on the door and go, 'Hello, is this your daughter? She's got three blue lipsticks and a moisturiser from Boots in her bag.' We just used to nick crap. Not even stuff we wanted.
I've had dates at the nicest restaurants, but when you leave, you're starving, and the best part of the date is having a slice of pizza and a couple of drinks on the way home. I think it's important to be able to roll with the punches and enjoy every minute of it.
Once you're halfway home, you know that you can probably get the rest of the way there.
I had bad days on the field. But I didn't take them home with me. I left them in a bar along the way home.
Back when I was 8 or 9 and wanted to be a nun, I would often stop at church on my way home from school.
Like after a nice walk when you have seen many lovely sights you decide to go home, after a while I decided it was time to go home, let us put the cubes back in order. And it was at that moment that I came face to face with the Big Challenge: What is the way home?
Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.
I was actually lost in Beirut on the way home.
It was very much like Norman Rockwell: small town America. We walked to school or rode our bikes, stopped at the penny candy store on the way home from school, skated on the pond.
Most days, I have a slice of toast, then lie in a hot bath for an hour to get up a sweat. I have a sauna at the racecourse and then go and ride. On the way home, I might stop at a service station and have a bar of chocolate and a Diet Coke. And that's it, basically.
I quite clearly remember driving home at 9 a.m., after shooting all day, in a bathrobe, with bodypaint all over my face, and going through McDonald's drive-thru. I ordered a coffee to make sure I didn't crash on the way home. And the girl working there, she didn't even bat an eyelid. I guess it's a regular thing down in Hastings McDonald's.
Every demo I do has a mandolin or resonator on it - some element of the bluegrass or classic country world that I grew up listening to and that first drew me in. And then I always try to find somewhere for a bluesy guitar sound, because that's also what I love. Musically, I'm always finding my way home.
The law is the law whether you're dealing with a multi-million-pound fraud or a car deal where someone feels diddled because their exhaust falls off on the way home.
I was literally in the car every day on my way home from school trying to hurry up and get the homework done so I could just go home and watch the cartoons and not be bothered.
David Lee Roth had the idea that if you covered a successful song, you were half way home. C'mon - Van Halen doing 'Dancing in the Streets'? It was stupid. I started feeling like I would rather bomb playing my own songs than be successful playing someone else's music.
