Quotes About Door

If on the other hand he went to pay his respects to The Door and it wasn't there . . . what then? The answer, of course, was very simple. He had a whole board of circuits for dealing with exactly this problem, in fact this was the very heart of his function. He would continue to believe in it whatever the facts turned out to be, what else was the meaning of Belief? The Door would still be there, even if the Door was not.

Everybody always says that I'm the girl next door, which makes me think that y'all must have a lot of weird next-door neighbours.

The best advice my mom has ever given me is to never give up. She believes when one door shuts, another door opens. Always, always move forward.

Will rolled up his sleeves. "We'll probably have to knock down the door--" "Or," said Jem, reaching out and giving the knob a twist, "not." The door swung open onto a rectangle of darkness. "Now, that's simply laziness," said Will.

I have to admit, I have a little sad addiction. I love watching on the E Channel that stupid show, The Girls Next Door. It's a very sad thing to say and I don't know how to explain it but I am addicted to Hugh Hefner's girlfriends and The Girls Next Door.

Books fall open, you fall in, delighted where you've never been; hear voices not once heard before, reach world on world through door on door; find unexpected keys to things locked up beyond imaginings. What might you be, perhaps become, because one book is somewhere? Some wise delver into wisdom, wit, and wherewithal has written it. True books will venture, dare you out, whisper secrets, maybe shout across the gloom to you in need, who hanker for a book to read.

I am a king's daughter, And if I cared to care, The moon that has no mistress Would flutter in my hair. No one dares to cherish What I choose to crave. Never have I hungered, For that I did not have I am a kings daughter, And I grow old within The prison of my person, The shackles of my skin. And I would run away And beg from door to door, Just to see your shadow Once, and never more.

Until America, door to door, takes every handgun, this is what you're gonna have. It's pathetic. It really is pathetic. It's sad. We're living in the Dark Ages over there.

Every day I watched how a bare metal frame, rolling down the line would come off the other end, a spanking brand new car. What a great idea! Maybe, I could do the same thing with my music. Create a place where a kid off the street could walk in one door, an unknown, go through a process, and come out another door, a star.

Most of us feel on some level like race horses chomping at the bit, pressing at the gate, hoping and praying for someone to open the door and let us run out. We feel so much pent up energy, so much locked up talent. We know in our hearts that we were born to do great things, and we have a deep-seated dread of wasting our lives. But the only person who can free us is ourselves. Most of us know that. We realize that the locked door is our own fear.

I have had almost every job under the sun, it feels like. One of the first jobs I took was as a door-to-door pest control salesman in Raleigh, North Carolina.

We do not pass twice through the same door Or return to the door through which we did not pass.

Then, I realized that there is an indigenous presence in the Solar System. It's us. So, then, I got to wondering what would happen if a more technologically advanced society moved next door to us, the way we moved next door to the American Indians.

Seriously, if I switched on the TV and they were showing live footage of an army of fire-breathing pterodactyls machine-gunning people to death on the streets of London right outside my door, I'd be horrified, but not entirely surprised, nor any more scared than I already am. I'd probably just shrug and wait for them to smash the door down. We're so screwed, I don't even know what to worry about first.

I have told the story I was asked to tell. I have closed it, as so many stories close, with a joining of two people. What is one man's and one woman's love and desire, against the history of two worlds, the great revolutions of our lifetimes, the hope, the unending cruelty of our species? A little thing. But a key is a little thing, next to the door it opens. If you lose the key, the door may never be unlocked. It is in our bodies that we lose or begin our freedom, in our bodies that we accept or end our slavery. So I wrote this book for my friend, with whom I have lived and will die free.

The door to the soul is unlocked; you do not need to please the doorkeeper, the door in front of you is yours, intended for you, and the doorkeeper obeys when spoken to.

I have a very strong sense of architecture in my novels. But at first it's sometimes like building a doorknob before you have a door, and a door before you have a room.

It was a shut door, and shut doors meant things kept to yourself. There were reasons you kept things to yourself, and they usually weren’t good, happy, open-air sort of reasons. Still, I didn’t want to see behind that door. You think you want to know everything there is to know about everything there is to know. But you don’t. Not really. I had pried the lid off of the dark places of another person before, I had seen inside. Down deep. You don’t want to look at what’s rotting there.

Finally, when happiness came knocking on my door, I'd be waiting. I'd open the door and say: "Where have you been? What took you so long? And if you just give me a moment I'll pack and go with you."

Be blessed. And just as you are transforming your own life, may you transform the lives of those around you. When they ask, do not forget to give. When they knock at your door, be sure to open it. When they lose something and come to you, do whatever you can to help them find what they have lost. First, though, ask; knock at the door and find what is missing in your life. A hunter always knows what to expect - eat or be eaten.

The world has been busy for some centuries in shutting and locking every door through which a woman could step into wealth, except the door of marriage.

Somebody once asked Niels Bohr why he had a horseshoe hanging above the front door of his house. Surely you, a world famous physicist, can't really believe that hanging a horseshoe above your door brings you luck? Of course not, Bohr replied, but I have been reliably informed that it will bring me luck whether I believe in it or not.

The real estate agent had to go door-to-door in the apartment building we wanted to rent, asking if it was OK for this interracial family - my mom is white and I was a 1-year-old half-African kid - to live in the apartment building.

When one door is closed, don't you know, another is open.

I have a most peaceable disposition. My desires are for a modest hut, a thatched roof, but a good bed, good food, very fresh milk and butter, flowers in front of my window and a few pretty trees by my door. And should the good Lord wish to make me really happy, he will allow me the pleasure of seeing about six or seven of my enemies hanged upon those trees.

I live in a neighborhood that's really filled with sound - there's a lot of Jamaican auto body shops, and the guys next door play hip hop.

I found a lot of comfort in the fact that 30-odd people have been companions before me. I think that when there are so many people contributing so many things to the show, all you can do is make it your own. You can't try to emulate anyone, because who would you pick? The companions are very much the everyman, and the audience watches the story through their eyes, so they could be the person next door. And everybody's different.

There was a girl knocking on my hotel room door all night! Finally, I let her out.

They're safe,'' he said. "And you're not made of glass". He swept me up in his arms. I laughed. "And I'm not made of glass." He carried me into our room and kicked the door shut behind us.

Oh my god! Would you shut the front door already?! Look at you walking out here with your hair done, nails done, everything did. Whatchu think you fancy, huh? Look, uh, sweetheart, I don't speak Gucci or anything, but I'll give it my best shot.

Why is it that men who can go through severe accidents, air raids, and any other major crisis always seems to think that they are at death's door when they have a simple head cold?

This was the door to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.

We should not use special budget procedures to jam through legislation to drill in the Arctic Refuge. This topic is too important to the public to address it in such a back-door manner. We should be having a full, open discussion of the issue during an energy debate.

I'm at least getting my foot in the door as far as doing straight dramatic parts, which no one would have ever considered me for in the '80s. I never objected to that because I love doing comedy, and I'm not the kind of actor that insists that unless you're doing a serious dramatic role, you're not acting.

A man always blames the woman who fools him. In the same way he blames the door he walks into in the dark.

When I walk in the door sometimes, I'm already an anomaly. Because I'm working in a genre that African-American's don't typically engage in.

Door’s locked,” he said. “And we have unfinished business.

We walked out of this library building downtown, just on our way to lunch, and I was walking a few steps behind Travolta, and when he opened the door, it was as if Jesus had just walked out into the commons.

The storm stops at the door. Love reigns, peace dwells.

Anybody that wants to walk out that door and leave home for a few months and rely on themselves instead of fate might have some interesting stories to tell.

Are you decent?" a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar. "Nay, but we're clothed," Cian purred.

Given enough time, you could convince yourself that loneliness was something better, that it was solitude, the ideal condition for reflection, even a kind of freedom. Once you were thus convinced, you were foolish to open the door and let anyone in, not all the way in. You risked the hard-won equilibrium, that tranquility that you called peace

Leigh [Bowery] would create fake guest lists and put the most ridiculous names on them - Joan Collins, or really naff soap stars who would never grace the door of Taboo.

The happiest moments of my childhood were spent on my grandmother's front porch in Durham, N.C., or at her sister's farmhouse in Orange County, where chickens paraded outside the kitchen's screen door and hams were cured in the smokehouse.

She tossed her towel on her dresser and turned to the bed where shed left her PJs. Only it wasn't just her PJs on the bed anymore. Lucas, eyes wide, sat on the foot of her bed, about four feet from where she stood completely naked. She squealed. He laughed. She dashed for the towel. Once she had it around her, she glared from a still grinning Lucas to the door. "I'm killing Della!" He laughed again. "I'm afraid I might have to protect her for this one.

Why struggle to open a door between us when the whole wall is an illusion?

I am sorry the only outlet for her troubled mind was in clumsy foreplay with an inadequate partner." He threw the rest of her sandwich at the swinging door as she passed through it.

When listening to the sound material, we metamorphose the inside into an outside. This notion of metamorphosis is one of the principles that leads the course of the musical suite, reflecting changes (fluidsolid passages: water/ice/fire) or movements (ebb/flow/wave, inspiration/expiration) or inside-outside passages (door/individual/crowd). Thus, the perceived object is not entirely what we would have liked it to be. Our music brings us closer to some while it takes us away from others: each with their own inside.