I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany´s.
Home is where you feel at home. I'm still looking.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote expresses the idea that true belonging is about emotional connection rather than physical location.
Truman Capote's quote suggests that the essence of 'home' transcends mere bricks and mortar; it is about comfort, safety, and emotional fulfillment. As the speaker conveys their ongoing search for this feeling, it highlights the universal quest for a place or state of being where one feels completely accepted and at peace, emphasizing the importance of deep personal connections in defining the concept of home.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
In a speech about community, I could say, 'As Truman Capote said, 'Home is where you feel at home. I'm still looking,' reminding us that belonging is what truly makes a place special.
More from Truman Capote
All quotes →All writing, all art, is an act of faith. If one tries to contribute to human understanding, how can that be called decadent? It's like saying a declaration of love is an act of decadence. Any work of art, provide it springs from a sincere motivation to further understanding between people, is an act of faith and therefore is an act of love.
No one will ever know what 'In Cold Blood' took out of me. It scraped me right down to the marrow of my bones. It nearly killed me. I think, in a way, it did kill me.
Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.
I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together.
The quietness of his tone italicized the malice of his reply.
Similar quotes
He feared me as many men fear women: because their mistresses (or their wives) understand them. They are scarcely adult, some men: they wish women to understand them, and to that end they tell them all their secrets; and then, when they are properly understood, they hate their women for understanding them.
Maybe times are never strange to women: it is just one continuous monotonous thing full of the repeated follies of their menfolks.
We gave up everything just to sit at your table.
If he was a good man, how could he leave me? So he must not be a good man. But if he isn't good, then why does it hurt so much to lose him?
You can date whoever you want, but you should marry the nerds and the good guys.
He was afraid that the secrets she'd kept would always be here, inside him, an ugly malignant thing lodged near enough to his heart to upset its rhythm, and though it could be removed, cut out, there would always be scars; bits and pieces of it would remain in his blood, making it wrong somehow, so that if he accidentally sliced his skin open, his blood would--for one heartbeat--flow as black as India ink before it remembered that it should be red.