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Door Quotes (page 20)

The door and windows are cut out (from the walls) to form an apartment; but it is on the empty space (within), that its use depends. Lao Tzu
Can our morrows be foretold? Your Grace might ask instead should our morrows be foretold? And to that I should answer no. Some doors are best left closed. See that you close mine as you leave. George R. R. Martin
I hope you’re not planning on kicking me,” he said, not even bothering to look up from his book, “as hard as you did those doors.” “I will,” I said, “if the next words out of your mouth are Pierce, you just need to relax. Meg Cabot
...As we locked the front door behind us, she said, "How do you keep getting in without my knowing it? Did Jill give you a key without mentioning it to me?"Trade secret," I said."What trade is that? Cat burglar?"Yes, although I prefer the technical term."What's that?"Music promoter. Steven Brust
When a man understands the art of seeing, he can trace the spirit of an age and the features of a king even in the knocker on a door. Victor Hugo
So, what, you just decided to sack out here and seduce me when I walked in the door? Home from spending the night at my boyfriend's? After having sex with him that could go in the Guinness Book of Records? Charlaine Harris
Life, if you keep chasing it so hard, will drive you to death. Time—when pursued like a bandit—will behave like one; always remaining one county or one room ahead of you, changing its name and hair color to elude you, slipping out the back door of the motel just as you’re banging through the lobby with your newest search warrant, leaving only a burning cigarette in the ashtray to taunt you. At some point you have to stop because it won’t. You have to admit that you can’t catch it. That you’re... Elizabeth Gilbert
Samuel Johnson quote: "A secret in his mouth, is like a wild bird put into a cage;..."
A secret in his mouth, is like a wild bird put into a cage; whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out. Samuel Johnson
...you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it's done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on Samuel Beckett
Embryos are like photograph film," said Mr. Foster waggishly, as he pushed open the second door. "They can only stand red light." And in effect the sultry darkness into which the students now followed him was visible and crimson, like the darkness of closed eyes on a summer's afternoon. Aldous Huxley
imagine thatit were given back to me to bethe child who knew departure would be sweet, the boy who drew square-rigged ships, the girl who knewtruck routes from ottawa to mexico, the me who found a door in latin verseand made a map out of hexameters. Marilyn Hacker
Noel Coward quote: "Having to read footnotes resembles having to go downstairs to..."
Having to read footnotes resembles having to go downstairs to answer the door while in the midst of making love. Noel Coward
After my brush with the suicidal impulse, I listen with new ears to others when theyspeak on the subject. I think there are people who were born with that little door open, and theyhave to go through life knowing that they might jump through it at any moment. Doug Coupland
The New ColossusNot like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses... Emma Lazarus
Oh it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. The trombones crunched redgold under my bed, and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise silverflamed, and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again crunched like candy thunder. Oh, it was wonder of wonders. And then, a bird of like rarest spun heavenmetal, or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now, came the violin solo above all the other strings, and those strings were like a cage of... Anthony Burgess

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