Abode meaning

Noun: abode

Pronunciation:(u’bowd)

Abode meaning:

• Any address at which you dwell more than temporarily

Synonyms: residence

• Housing that someone is living in

Synonyms: dwelling, home, domicile, habitation, dwelling house

Derived forms: abodes
Quotations:

1. Henry David Thoreau – However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.
2. Henry David Thoreau – However mean your life is, meet and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its doors as early in the spring. Cultivate property like a garden herb, like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. Turn the old; return to them. Things do not change; we change. Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts Superfluous wealth can buy superfluities only. Money is not required to buy one necessary of the soul.
3. Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra – I was born free, and that I might live in freedom I chose the solitude of the fields; in the trees of the mountains I find society, the clear waters of the brooks are my mirrors, and to the trees and waters I make known my thoughts and charms. I am a fire afar off, a sword laid aside. Those whom I have inspired with love by letting them see me, I have by words undeceived, and if their longings live on hope and I have given none to Chrysostom or to any other it cannot justly be said that the death of any is my doing, for it was rather his own obstinacy than my cruelty that killed him; and if it be made a charge against me that his wishes were honourable, and that therefore I was bound to yield to them, I answer that when on this very spot where now his grave is made he declared to me his purity of purpose, I told him that mine was to live in perpetual solitude, and that the earth alone should enjoy the fruits of my retirement and the spoils of my beauty; and if, after this open avowal, he chose to persist against hope and steer against the wind, what wonder is it that he should sink in the depths of his infatuation? If I had encouraged him, I should be false; if I had gratified him, I should have acted against my own better resolution and purpose. He was persistent in spite of warning, he despaired without being hated. Bethink you now if it be reasonable that his suffering should be laid to my charge. Let him who has been deceived complain, let him give way to despair whose encouraged hopes have proved vain, let him flatter himself whom I shall entice, let him boast whom I shall receive; but let not him call me cruel or homicide to whom I make no promise, upon whom I practise no deception, whom I neither entice nor receive. It has not been so far the will of Heaven that I should love by fate, and to expect me to love by choice is idle. Let this general declaration serve for each of my suitors on his own account, and let it be understood from this time forth that if anyone dies for me it is not of jealousy or misery he dies, for she who loves no one can give no cause for jealousy to any, and candour is not to be confounded with scorn. Let him who calls me wild beast and basilisk, leave me alone as something noxious and evil; let him who calls me ungrateful, withhold his service; who calls me wayward, seek not my acquaintance; who calls me cruel, pursue me not; for this wild beast, this basilisk, this ungrateful, cruel, wayward being has no kind of desire to seek, serve, know, or follow them. If Chrysostom’s impatience and violent passion killed him, why should my modest behaviour and circumspection be blamed? If I preserve my purity in the society of the trees, why should he who would have me preserve it among men, seek to rob me of it? I have, as you know, wealth of my own, and I covet not that of others; my taste is for freedom, and I have no relish for constraint; I neither love nor hate anyone; I do not deceive this one or court that, or trifle with one or play with another. The modest converse of the shepherd girls of these hamlets and the care of my goats are my recreations; my desires are bounded by these mountains, and if they ever wander hence it is to contemplate the beauty of the heavens, steps by which the soul travels to its primeval abode.
4. Henry David Thoreau – The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poor-house. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.
5. Cormac McCarthy – There is but one world and everything that is imaginable is necessary to it. For this world also which seems to us a thing of stone and flower and blood is not a thing at all but is a tale. And all in it is a tale and each tale the sum of all lesser tales and yet these are also the selfsame tale and contain as well all else within them. So everything is necessary. Every least thing. This is the hard lesson. Nothing can be dispensed with. Nothing despised. Because the seams are hid from us, you see. The joinery. The way in which the world is made. We have no way to know what could be taken away. What omitted. We have no way to tell what might stand and what might fall. And those seams that are hid from us are of course in the tale itself and the tale has no abode or place of being except in the telling only and there it lives and makes its home and therefore we can never be done with the telling. Of the telling there is no end. And in whatever place by whatever name or by no name at all, all tales are one. Rightly heard all tales are one.
6. Rainer Maria Rilke – How I will cherish you then, you grief-torn nights!Had I only received you, inconsolable sisters,on more abject knees, only buried myself with more abandon in your loosened hair. How we waste our afflictions!We study them, stare out beyond them into bleak continuance, hoping to glimpse some end. Whereas they’re really our wintering foliage, our dark greens of meaning, one of the seasons of the clandestine year ; not only a season they’re site, settlement, shelter, soil, abode.
7. Vladimir Nabokov – Have you ever happened, reader, to feel that subtle sorrow of parting with an unloved abode? The heart does not break, as it does in parting with dear objects. The humid gaze does not wander around holding back a tear, as if it wished to carry away in it a trembling reflection of the abandoned spot; but in the best corner of our hearts we feel pity for the things which we did not bring to life with our breath, which we hardly noticed and are now leaving forever. This already dead inventory will not be resurrected in one’s memory..
8. J.R.R. Tolkien – Galadriel his sister went not with him to Nargothrond, for in Doriath dwelt Celeborn, kinsman of Thingol, and there was great love between them. Therefore she remained in the Hidden Kingdom, and abode with Melian, and of her learned great lore and wisdom concerning Middle-earth.
9. Anonymous – Say to my friends, when they look upon me, dead,Weeping for me and mourning me in sorrow,Do not believe that this corpse you see is myself,In the name of God, I tell you, it is not I,I am a spirit, and this is naught but flesh,It was my abode and my garment for a time.I am a treasure, by a talisman kept hid,Fashioned of dust, which served me as a shrine,I am a pearl, which has left it’s shell deserted,I am a bird, and this body was my cage,Whence I have now flown forth and it is left as a token,Praise to God, who hath now set me free,And prepared for me my place in the highest of the Heavens,Until today I was dead, though alive in your midst.Now I live in truth, with the grave clothes discarded.Today I hold converse with the Saints above,With no veil between, I see God face to face.I look upon Loh-i-Mahfuz and there in I read,Whatever was and is, and all that is to be.Let my house fall in ruins, lay my cage in the ground,Cast away the talisman, it is a token no more,Lay aside my cloak, it was but my outer garment.Place them all in the grave, let them be forgotten,I have passed on my way and you are left behind,Your place of abode was no dwelling place for me.Think not that death is death, nay, it is life,A life that surpasses all we could dream of here,While in this world, here we are granted sleep,Death is but sleep, sleep that shall be prolonged Be not frightened when death draweth nigh,It is but the departure for this blessed home,Think of the mercy and love of your Lord,Give thanks for His Grace and come without fear.What I am now, even so shall you be,For I know that you are even as I am,The souls of all men come forth from God,The bodies of all are compounded alike,Good and evil, alike it was ours.I give you now a message of good cheer May God’s peace and joy forever more be yours.
10. William Cullen Bryant – To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart; Go forth, under the open sky, and list To Nature’s teachings, while from all around Earth and her waters, and the depths of air Comes a still voice Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix for ever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world with kings, The powerful of the earth the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste, Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings yet the dead are there: And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep the dead reign there alone.So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee. As the long train Of ages glide away, the sons of men, The youth in life’s green spring, and he who goes In the full strength of years, matron and maid, The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, By those, who in their turn shall follow them. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Sample sentences:

1. Our opportunities to give of ourselves are indeed limitless, but they are also perishable. There are hearts to gladden. There are kind words to say. There are gifts to be given. There are deeds to be done. There are souls to be saved.As we remember that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God, we will not find ourselves in the unenviable position of Jacob Marley’s ghost, who spoke to Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens’s immortal “Christmas Carol.” Marley spoke sadly of opportunities lost. Said he: ‘Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!’Marley added: ‘Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!’Fortunately, as we know, Ebenezer Scrooge changed his life for the better. I love his line, ‘I am not the man I was.’Why is Dickens “Christmas Carol” so popular? Why is it ever new? I personally feel it is inspired of God. It brings out the best within human nature. It gives hope. It motivates change. We can turn from the paths which would lead us down and, with a song in our hearts, follow a star and walk toward the light. We can quicken our step, bolster our courage, and bask in the sunlight of truth. We can hear more clearly the laughter of little children. We can dry the tear of the weeping. We can comfort the dying by sharing the promise of eternal life. If we lift one weary hand which hangs down, if we bring peace to one struggling soul, if we give as did the Master, we can by showing the way become a guiding star for some lost mariner.
2. You can study God through everything and everyone in the universe, because God is not confined in a mosque, synagogue or church. But if you are still in need of knowing where exactly His abode is, there is only one place to look for Him: in the heart of a true lover.
3. You are the drop,and the ocean you are kindness,you are anger,you are sweetness,you are poison.Do not make me more disheartened.you are the chamber of the sun,you are the abode of Venus, you are the garden of all hope.Oh, Beloved, let me enter.
4. It was the nature of his profession that his experience with death should be greater than for most and he said that while it was true that time heals bereavement it does so only at the cost of the slow extinction of those loved ones from the heart’s memory which is the sole place of their abode then or now. Faces fade, voices dim. Seize them back, whispered the sepulturero. Speak with them. Call their names. Do this and do not let sorrow die for it is the sweetening of every gift.
5. I dwell with a strangely aching heart In that vanished abode there far apart
6. He dabbed at his tuxedo with a damp rag, and the fungi came away easily. “Hate to do this, Bill,” he said of the fungi he was murdering. “Fungi have as much right to life as I do. they know what they want, Bill. Damned if I do anymore.”Then he thought about what Bill himself might want. It was easy to guess. “Bill,” he said, “I like you so much, and I am such a big shot in the Universe, that I will make your three biggest wishes come true.” He opened the door of the cage, something Bill couldn’t have done in a thousand years.Bill flew over to the windowsill. He put his little shoulder against the glass. there was just one layer of glass between Bill and the great out-of-doors. Although Trough was in the storm window business, he had no storm windows on his own abode.”Your second wish is about to come true,” said Trout, and he again did something which Bill could never have done. he opened the window. But the opening of the window was such an alarming business to the parakeet that he flew back to his cage and hopped inside.Trout closed the door of the cage and latched it. “That’s the most intelligent use of three wishes I ever heard of,” he told the bird. “You made sure you’d still have something worth wishing for–to get out of the cage.
7. How good is it to remember one’s insignificance: that of a man among billions of men, of an animal amid billions of animals; and one’s abode, the earth, a little grain of sand in comparison with Sirius and others, and one’s life span in comparison with billions on billions of ages. There is only one significance, you are a worker. The assignment is inscribed in your reason and heart and expressed clearly and comprehensibly by the best among the beings similar to you. The reward for doing the assignment is immediately within you. But what the significance of the assignment is or of its completion, that you are not given to know, nor do you need to know it. It is good enough as it is. What else could you desire?
8. She says I shall now have one mouth the more to fill and two feet the more to shoe, more disturbed nights, more laborious days, and less leisure or visiting, reading, music, and drawing.Well! This is one side of the story, to be sure, but I look at the other. Here is a sweet, fragrant mouth to kiss; here are two more feet to make music with their pattering about my nursery. Here is a soul to train for God; and the body in which it dwells is worth all it will cost, since it is the abode of a kingly tenant. I may see less of friends, but I have gained one dearer than them all, to whom, while I minister in Christ’s name, I make a willing sacrifice of what little leisure for my own recreation my other darlings had left me. Yes, my precious baby, you are welcome to your mother’s heart, welcome to her time, her strength, her health, her tenderest cares, to her lifelong prayers! Oh, how rich I am, how truly, how wondrously blest!
9. Imagination! lifting up itself Before the eye and progress of my Song Like and unfather’d vapour; here that Power In all the might of its endowments, came Athwart me; I was lost as in a cloud,Halted without a struggle to break through,And now recovering to my Soul I say I recognize they glory; in such strength Of usurpation, in such visitings Of awful promise, when the light of sense Goes out in flashes that have shewn to us The invisible world, doth Greatness make abode There harbors whether we be young or old. Our destiny, our nature, and our home Is with infinitude, and only there;With hope it is, hope that can never die, Effort, and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
10. I am here because of a certain man. I came to retrace his steps. Perhaps to see if there were not some alternate course. What was here to be found was not a thing. Things separate from their stories have no meaning. They are only shapes. Of a certain size and color. A certain weight. When their meaning has become lost to us they no longer have even a name. The story on the other hand can never be lost from its place in the world for it is that place. And that is what was to be found here. The corrido. That tale. And like all corridos it ultimately told one story only, for there is only one to tell.The cats shifted and stirred, the fire creaked in the stove. Outside in the abandoned village the profoundest silence.What is the story? the boy said.In the town of Caborca on the Altar River there was a man who lived there who was an old man. He was born in Caborca and in Caborca he died. Yet he lived once in this town, in Huisiachepic.What does Caborca know of Huisiachepic, Huisiachepic of Caborca? They are different worlds, you must agree. Yet even so there is but one world and everything that is imaginable is necessary to it. For this world also which seems to us a thing of stone and flower and blood is not a thing at all but a tale. And all in it is a tale and each tale the sum of all lesser tales and yet they are the selfsame tale and contain as well all else within them. So everything is necessary. Every least thing. This is a hard lesson. Nothing can be dispensed with. Nothing despised. Because the seems are hid from us, you see. The joinery. The way in which the world is made. We have no way to tell what might stand and what might fall. And those seams that are hid from us are of course in the tale itself and the tale had no abode or place of being except in the telling only and there it lives and makes its home and therefore we can never be done with the telling. Of the telling there is no end. And whether in Caborca or Huisiachepic or in whatever other place by whatever other name or by no name at all I say again all tales are one. Rightly heard all tales are one.
11. Rallick will kill you, Murillio said levelly. Nonsense. Kruppe placed the mask over his face. How will the lad ever recognize Kruppe?Murillio studied the man’s round body, the faded red waistcoat, gathered cuffs, and the short oily curls atop his head. Never mind. He sighed.Excellent, Kruppe said. Now, please accept these two masks, gifts from your friend Kruppe. A trip is saved, and Baruk need not wait any longer for a secret message that must not be mentioned. He replaced his mask in its box, then spun round to study the eastern skyline. Off to yon alchemist’s abode, then. Good evening, friend Wait a minute, Murillio said, grasping Kruppe’s arm and turning him round. Have you seen Coll? Why, of course. The man sleeps a deep, recovering sleep from his ordeals.Twas healed magically, Sulty said. By some stranger, yet. Coll himself was brought in by yet a second stranger, who found a third stranger, who in turn brought a fifth stranger in the company of the stranger who healed Coll. And so it goes, friend Murillio. Strange doings, indeed. Now, Kruppe must be off. Goodbye, friend Not yet, Murillio snarled. He glanced around. The street was still empty. He leaned close. I’ve worked some things out, Kruppe. Circle Breaker contacting me put everything into order in my mind. I know who you are. Aaai! Kruppe cried, withdrawing. I’ll not deny it, then! It’s true, Murillio, Kruppe is Lady Simtal connivingly disguised.
12. When the Creator banished from his sight Frail man to dark mortality’s abode,And granted him a late return to light,Only by treading reason’s arduous road,—When each immortal turned his face away,She, the compassionate, alone Took up her dwelling in that house of clay,With the deserted, banished one.With drooping wing she hovers here Around her darling, near the senses’ land,And on his prison-walls so drear Elysium paints with fond deceptive hand.While soft humanity still lay at rest,Within her tender arms extended,No flame was stirred by bigots’ murderous zest,No guiltless blood on high ascended.The heart that she in gentle fetters binds,Views duty’s slavish escort scornfully;Her path of light, though fairer far it winds,Sinks in the sun-track of morality.Those who in her chaste service still remain,No grovelling thought can tempt, no fate affright;The spiritual life, so free from stain,Freedom’s sweet birthright, they receive again,Under the mystic sway of holy might.
13. We are all part of a loving gestation process. We are here to empower each other to face the journey through unconditional love. This voyage involves stopping over in conditioned configurations, such as our physical reality. Yet, these are all provisional abodes, and every step through this voyage entails becoming more whole, retrieving further pieces of the soul. All human sufferance derives from lack of awareness of this process.
14. The three representative men of the Bible, the natural, the carnal, and the spiritual – Which are you? Are you living in Egypt, the world and home of the natural man, or in the wilderness, the abode of the carnal? Are you already through the wilderness, and dwelling in Canaan, the land of the spiritual?
15. Jehennam is a region fraught with all kinds of horrors. The very trees have writhing serpents for branches, bearing for fruit the heads of demons. We forbear to dwell upon the particulars of this dismal abode, which are given with painful and often disgusting minuteness. It is described as consisting of seven stages, one below the other, and varying in the nature and intensity of torment. The first stage is allotted to Atheists, who deny creator and creation, and believe the world to be eternal. The second for Manicheans and others that admit two divine principles ; and for the Arabian idolaters of the era of Mahomet. The third is for the Brahmins of India ; the fourth for the Jews ; the fifth for Christians ; the sixth for the Magians or Ghebers of Persia ; the seventh for hypocrites, who profess without believing in religion. The fierce angel Thabeck, that is to say, the Executioner, presides over this region of terror. We must observe that the general nature of Jehennam, and the distribution of its punishments, have given rise to various commentaries and expositions among the Moslem doctors. It is maintained by some, and it is a popular doctrine, that none of the believers in Allah and his prophets will be condemned to eternal punishment. Their sins will be expiated by proportionate periods of suffering, varying from nine hundred to nine thousand years. Some of the most humane among the doctors contend against eternity of punishment to any class of sinners, saying that, as God is all merciful, even infidels will eventually be pardoned. Those who have an intercessor, as the Christians have in Jesus Christ, will be first redeemed. The liberality of these worthy commentators, however, does not extend so far as to admit them into paradise among true believers ; but concludes that, after long punishment, they will be relieved from their torments by annihilation.
16. Our abode in this world is transitory, our life therein is but a loan. Our breaths are numbered and our indolence is manifest.
17. The Quran is Allah’s greatest blessing for you. It is the fulfillment of His promise to Adam and his descendants: There shall come to you guidance from Me, and whosoever follows My guidance no fear shall be on them, neither shall they sorrow. It is the only weapon to help your frail existence as you struggle against the forces of evil and temptation in this-world. It is the only means to overpower your fear and anxiety. It is the only light, as you grope in the darkness, with which to find your way to success and salvation. It is the only healing for your inner sicknesses, as well as the social ills that may surround you. It is the constant reminder of your true nature and destiny, of your station, your duties, your rewards, your perils. It was brought down by one who is powerful and trustworthy in the heavens. Its first abode was that pure and sublime heart, the like of which man has never had the heart of the Prophet Muhammad, blessings and peace be on him. More than anything, it is the only way to come nearer and closer to your Creator.
18. Made as we were in the image of God we scarcely find it strange to take again our God as our All. God was our original habitat and our hearts cannot but feel at home when they enter again that ancient and beautiful abode.
19. Beyond the lake the waning moon has slowed,And stands there like a window open wide Into a hushed and brightly lit abode Where something dreadful has occurred inside.
20. …which was no abode of the dead because there was no death, not Lion and not Sam: not held fast in earth but free in earth and not in earth but of earth, myriad yet undiffused of every myriad part, leaf and twig and particle, air and sun and rain and dew and night, acorn oak and leaf and acorn again, dark and dawn and dark and dawn again in their immutable progression and, being myriad, one.
21. Love and dignity cannot share the same abode.
22. I bid thee a happy voyage to thine abode.
23. What do you think of our new abode?
24. Inside the house that rave built, all is sunshine and calm: UV rays are flooding through the huge windows of Norman Cook’s beachfront abode in the bit of Brighton known as Millionaire’s Row.
25. A re-zoning proposal for the 84-year-old abode was approved by the Vancouver city council on Tuesday.
26. Earth has nothing more tender than a woman’s heart when it is the abode of piety.
27. Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode.
28. A man changing his abode is like a woman marrying.
29. Gladly pass the souls of the righteous to the golden seat of Ahura Mazda, to the golden seat of the Amesha-Spentas, to the Garô-nmânem, the abode of Ahura Mazda, the abode of the Amesha-Spentas, the abode of all the other holy beings.
30. The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship’s residence.