The real genius here lies not in praising home as comfort, but in suggesting that home occupies a category entirely its own—beyond comparison, beyond substitution. Dorothy's declaration in *The Wizard of Oz* isn't merely sentimental; it's an acknowledgment that some things possess a quality so particular to our lives that the world's glittering alternatives become almost irrelevant by comparison. A person might travel to remarkable cities, accumulate impressive experiences, yet find themselves calling an aging parent in a modest neighborhood simply to hear a familiar voice—not out of obligation, but because that specific attachment defies ranking. Langley captures something psychologists now study seriously: home isn't primarily about walls and location, but about the irreplaceable texture of belonging that we cannot architect anywhere else.