Edward Snowden Quotes

It is too late; now I wish I could live.

For twenty years I have ached to go back home, when there was nobody there to whom I could return.

The farce is finished. I go to seek a vast perhaps.

If you go anywhere, even paradise, you will miss your home.

It's been a great adventure, everything I hoped for. But it's time to go home. I miss my family. I miss the Earth.

Contemplating Christmas when you are isolated and far from home brings its own unique pain.

I live now on borrowed time, waiting in the anteroom for the summons that will inevitably come. And then - I go on to the next thing, whatever it is. One doesn't, luckily, have to bother about that.

Of course I've had my moments of wanting to go back to Scotland, and I almost did a couple of times, but other things just came up.

There has not been one day since I left that I have not thought about Haiti.

All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travellers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken.

Every day, I wish there was a moment when I could go back to my house and my land.

So many of my films involve houses or homes that have been abandoned. People trying to get back home. That's an idea that I keep dealing with.

I wished I could go back to Atletico; I'm not going to lie.

As the presence of those we love is as a double life, so absence, in its anxious longing and sense of vacancy, is as a foretaste of death.

Sign of old age: distress at all leave-takings, all separations. And the sadness of memories, because I'm aware they're condemned to death.

Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me; In exile thy bosom shall still be my home, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam.

But I'd long ago learned not to be picky in farewells. They weren't guaranteed or promised. You were lucky, more than blessed, if you got a good-bye at all.

No one but me can save myself though its too late, death greets me warm, now i will just say goodbye.

Some people speak and sing and walk and sit and sleep and silence their homesickness, for a long time, and to no avail. Some say that over time homesickness loses its specific content, that it starts to smolder and only then becomes all-consuming, because it’s no longer focused on a concrete home. I am one of the people who say that.

Oh, how hard it must be to die anywhere but in one's birthplace.

The worst feeling in the world is the homesickness that comes over a man occasionally when he is at home.

I get homesick.

This was nostalgia in the literal Greek sense: the pain of not being able to return to one's home and family.

You can't be scared of death. When that time comes, it comes.

I miss England. I miss the weather. I've spent moss of the last 25 years on tour. I'm ready to come home.