Evangeline Lilly Quotes

I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in

Like when you sit in front of a fire in winter — you are just there in front of the fire. You don't have to be smart or anything. The fire warms you.

I am happiest when I'm sitting on my parent's couch with the fire place on and talking to my family.

This neo-minimalism super cold stuff is weird to me. I need a place where I can come home and take my shoes off.

You want to come home to a nice firm bed with the corners tucked in so you start over, like each night is like a new night.

I love home, any home really - my mum's, and of course my own. I love eating food there and chilling in bed with a cup of tea.

I love my living room: it's the heart of my home where I get to chill and spend time with family and friends.

There was a fire in the wide hearth before them, and it was burning with a sweet smell, as if it were built of apple-wood.

Only picture to yourself a nice soft wife on a sofa with good fire, & books & music.

The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright. The house is full of life and light.

You don't have to be smart or anything. The fire warms you.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. It is no season in which to wander the world as if one were the wind blowing aimlessly along the streets without a place to rest, without food, and without time meaning anything to one, just as time means nothing to the wind.

Nothing smelled so good or danced so well as a birch fire.

A plate of apples, an open fire, and a jolly good book are a fair substitute for heaven.

Shut the door not that it lets in the cold but that it lets out the coziness.

Somebody bought me a Snuggie as a joke gift. Haha, the joke's on you, I enjoy it. I toss and turn at night, finally a blanket that's like, 'I'm going to keep you warm.' It's like having a small child with polio keep you in a full nelson - the perfect pressure.

In my beach shack, we'll be alone. In my beach shack, I'll make you feel at home.

A house with no fireplace is a house without a heart.

I have now and again tried to imagine the perfect environment, the ideal conditions for reading: A worn leather armchair on a rainy night? A hammock in a freshly mown backyard? A verandah overlooking the summer sea? Good choices, every one. But I have no doubt that they are all merely displacements, sentimental attempts to replicate the warmth and snugness of my mother's lap.

There is no place more delightful than home.

To feel safe and warm on a cold wet night, all you really need is soup.

The tea was a comfort - and by that time I more than needed comfort.

I get a warm feeling among my books.