Phillip Larkin

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft

David Byrne, “This Must Be the Place”

We drift in and out
Sing into my mouth
Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view

Suzanne Moore

I was always somehow inappropriate. As the anthropologist Mary Douglas said, dirt is "matter out of place". Matter out of place. 

Joan Didion, “On Self Respect”

It was once suggested to me that, as an antidote to crying, I put my head in a paper bag. As it happens, there is a sound physiological reason, something to do with oxygen, for doing exactly that, but the psychological effect alone is incalculable: it is difficult in the extreme to continue fancying oneself Cathy in Wuthering Heights with one's head in a Food Fair bag.