Halfway down the stairs is a stair where I sit.
There isn't any other stair quite like it.
I'm not at the bottom; I'm not at the top.
So this is the stair where I always stop. 
                                                   A.A. Milne

Ode to Autumn 
SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Written by John Keats, on the Water Meadows at Winchester

I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.

Jane Austen,
Pride and Prejudice, 1811

Splish Splash, I was takin' a bath
Long about a Saturday night, yeah
Rub-a-dub, just relaxin' in the tub
Thinkin' everything was alright

Well, I stepped out the tub, put my feet on the floor,
I wrapped the towel around me
And I opened the door, and then
Splish, Splash! I jumped back in the bath
Well how was I to know there was a party going on

Bobby Darin

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

             Dr. Brewster Higley (1876).

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there
Which seek thro' the world, is ne'er met elsewhere.
Home! Home!
Sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home
There's no place like home!