I will always look at my little Paris apartment with fond memories but I am too old to be sleeping on a futon bed!
Rawness and refinement are not opposite ends of a luxurious spectrum... they are two complementary features with which to populate a luxe environment.
I'm kind of a homebody.
Comfort is key for me.
Oh, I can't describe my home. It is home, and I can't put its charm into words
I've always been a homemaker, like, I like creating spaces. Even if I stay in a hotel, I'll unpack, I'll put my books out, I'll put my camera out, I'll throw a sweater over the lamp to get better light. I am a homemaker.
Velvet is great. It's warm as well. And it's snug.
My mom says that when it rains you never feel like you should be anywhere but home.
I'm never happier than in the bed.
When I'm in love with a woman, seeing her in something cozy makes me not want to let go of her when I'm holding her.
Good food and a warm kitchen are what makes a house a home.
I'm a homebody at heart, and I love to be around my dogs.
The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.
My biggest thrill in life is to read in the afternoon until I fall asleep and take a nap.
There is no place more delightful than one's own fireside. Nullus est locus domestica sede jucundior.
For you to sleep well at night, the aesthetic, the quality, has to be carried all the way through.
I love cuffing season. It's a very inspiring season for those who want to be inspired.
When you get into a hotel room, you lock the door, and you know there is a secrecy, there is a luxury, there is fantasy. There is comfort. There is reassurance.
It's just very homey in Ireland. It's very comforting and comfortable. There's lots of fireplaces with fires. It's just really cozy.
I do better in life when my world seems a little smaller.
Home is, I suppose just a child's idea. A house at night, and a lamp in the house. A place to feel safe.
For me, comfort is paramount.
It's impossible to be unhappy while wearing a poncho!
When I got inside, I just sort of stood there. There's nothing stranger than the smell of someone else's house. The scent goes right to your stomach. Mary's house smelled like lemon furniture polish and oatmeal cookies and logs in a fireplace. For some reason it made me want to curl up in the fetal position. I could have slept right there on their kitchen table.
I like horror movies that have a degree of coziness to them.
