home

Originally, I thought English was more my home. But Spanish is so much more romantic. I've had to learn new phrases. I've had to learn to be more secure about singing in Spanish. But I'm working on it.

I'm not the girl that sits at home on a Saturday night plaiting her girlfriend's hair, drinking tea and watching romantic comedies.

To be a lone filmmaker thousands of miles from home with nobody believing in me, that seems romantic.

I've had fun doing romantic comedies, but I just can't anymore. There's nothing fulfilling creatively, there's nowhere to grow, nothing to learn from it or for yourself. I'd rather just be home with my family or write music until that special project comes my way.

We have got too many kids around the house to have a romantic meal at home. But Danielle is a fantastic cook. She does a brilliant lasagne, great roasts and a great chilli dish. She knows the way to my heart.

My home is attached to a study - in fact, my home is my study, and I have a little room to sleep in. I need to write looking onto the street or a landscape. Looking at reality from some distance gives me romantic visions.

I once took the key off my girlfriend's key ring so that I could surprise her when she got home. So I did this whole romantic setup in our bedroom with flowers and rose petals. She was so mad when she got home, but then when she walked in, she was so surprised.

Romantic music really stirs my soul. And, of course, I love Chinese music; it makes me feel closer to home.

I figured out, I guess, that the job just makes me happy if it's not number one. So if it all works, great. If it doesn't, I still go home, look at my kids, and I have a big smile on my face.

I spend days on my Xperia logging on Facebook chatting with my friends and family at home; I love listening to Rihanna and Pink and watching movies. Basically, anything that makes me smile, but most of my fans will know that I am always smiling!

I love the Rio Grande Valley. I always say it's home - Texas is home. I've been out in L.A. a little over ten years, and I still get so excited when I go back home. It just feels comfortable; it makes me smile.

But I am convinced that those Jews who stand aside today with a malicious smile and with their hands in their trousers' pockets will also want to dwell in our beautiful home.

The very best hotel I've stayed in is the Intercontinental on Park Lane. We went there for the Chelsea Flower Show a few years ago, and it was sheer luxury. Everybody had a smile on their face. I came home and changed all my pillows because the hotel ones were so beautiful.

I always remember this neighbor who would ask me to babysit for her. She looked like Jayne Mansfield, and I remember babysitting for, like, five hours and she would pay me 80 cents, with a phony smile. I used to go home fuming to my mum.

Each one of us can do a good deed, every day and everywhere. In hospitals in desperate need of volunteers, in homes for the elderly where our parents and grandparents are longing for a smile, a listening ear, in the street, in our workplaces and especially at home.

A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.

I was one of those weird kids who didn't really speak or smile. I remember my teachers would call home and ask if everything was fine at home because I would never smile. Then I got into this phase, from maybe fourth to eighth grade, where my personality just did a 180.

Land is the secure ground of home, the sea is like life, the outside, the unknown.