Amy Luo

“It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.”
― Maud Hart Lovelace, Betsy-Tacy and Tib

“How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.”
― William C. Faulkner

“It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.”
― L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.”
― James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room