He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place.

His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.

When I die Dublin will be written in my heart.

Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.

Homesickness is. . . absolutely nothing. Fifty percent of the people in the world are homesick all the time. You don't really long for another country. You long for something in yourself that you don't have, or haven't been able to find.

Homesickness is nothing Fifty percent of the people in the world are homesick all the time.