Cozy Environment Quotes

In our house, my dad had a chair. It was a Barcalounger, big and comfortable. If we missed him or wanted comfort when he wasn't home, we'd just climb into the chair and let it envelop us.

Excuse the mess but we live here.

I wrote in the cellar for a number of years. I needed a private space, and it had a furnace, so it was always warm.

I wouldn't call myself a shut-in. I have the ability to leave my home; I just choose not to. But because I'm such a homebody, it's important to be surrounded by things I love.

I spend a lot of time in my bed. It's a good comfy one with a tartan bedspread. It's the only place I can read without straining my neck, and I take an afternoon nap, which is my reward for making enough money from my writing now not to have to work. I never get up in the morning before 11.30.

I try to make it a sonic experience so that when you put your earbuds in or when you're in your room, it sounds like an enveloping feeling. I think that is the most important thing, that wherever you are, it is wrapping you up and making you feel safe and comfortable.

I absolutely love low-key restaurants.

I'm staying in a lovely hotel, dressing robe behind the door, lovely fluffy sheets - took me a half an hour getting my suitcase closed.

I don't have a life where it's galas, posh affairs. It's me, my dog and a sofa. And a TV.

I'm happiest when I'm hanging out at home or in my room.

I like to be in a huis clos, as the French say - in one place. It's something that in general can create a bit of claustrophobia. But for me, claustrophobia becomes almost immediately claustrophilia. I love it!

I never waited for my Irish Cream coffee to be the right temperature, with a storm happening outside and my fireplace crackling... I wrote every day, at home, in the office, whether I felt like it or not. I just did it.

I want my home to look good, feel good, and smell good. I want it to be inclusive, to reflect the people who live there.

Heaven, Kiwi thought, would be the reading room of a great library. But it would be private. Cozy. You wouldn't have to worry about some squeaky-shoed librarian turning the lights off on you or gauging your literacy by reading the names on your book spines, and there wouldn't be a single other patron. The whole place would hum with a library's peace, filtering softly over you like white bars of light.

I don't like going out that much. When I'm out, I think about my couch.

I love my home comforts and I need to nest to feel grounded.

My grandmother's house was just a place of comfort. I mean, I remember going in there, and the kitchen always had pots cooking with the lids were always bump, bump, bump, bump, bubbling, you know?

Most evenings I'll light a few candles, get snuggled on the sofa, and read a magazine.

I usually write in my underwear, with a space heater running full blast, and three dogs sleeping at me feet.

It was the best place to be, thought Wilbur, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of manure, and the glory of everything.

I stay in one room, and it's easier to live there, to control it, to make it warm. It seems to me a convenient way to live, and it's cheap.

There is a great feeling in a small venue, with the closeness of the people and the intimacy.

I don't have one favourite spot - I love writing anywhere that I feel inspired. I have to admit that I do love getting cosy in bed or under blankets on the sofa and writing from there.

It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you were in the only nice, dry, cosy place in the world.