Quotes About Door

I know that when a door closes, it can feel like all doors are closing. A rejection letter can feel like everyone will reject us. But a closed door leads to clarity. It's really an arrow. Because we cannot go through that door, we will go somewhere else. That somewhere else is your true life.

When he at least reached the door the handle had cease to vibrate. Lowering himself suddenly to his knees he placed his head and the vagaries of his left eye (which was for ever trying to dash up and down the vertical surface of the door), he was able by dint of concentration to observe, within three inches of his keyholed eye, an eye which was not his, being not only of a different colour to his own iron marble, but being, which is more convincing, on the other side of the door.

Sometimes I get drunk and I get into arguments with taxi drivers. And I get out the cab and I slam the door. That's not the way to win an argument with a taxi driver. The way to win is you get out of the cab and you leave the door open. And then he has to step out and come around and close that door. And while he's doing that, I'm on the other side opening the other doors-and we just go around and around and around, and I got my own Benny Hill situation going on in life.

Get your players on who can unlock the door and sooner or later they will break the door down

My first job as a kid was going from door to door selling Christmas cards, to raise money for my grandmother's hip replacement. Because, you know... You break it, you buy it.

The Saviour Himself is the door of the sheepfold: 'I am the door of the sheep.' Into this fold of Jesus Christ, no man may enter unless he be led by the Sovereign Pontiff; and only if they be united to him can men be saved, for the Roman Pontiff is the Vicar of Christ and His personal representative on earth.

I think that people should come to Australia through the front door, not through the back door. If people want a migration outcome, they should go through the migration channels.

One door away from heaven And the key is ours to lose. One door away from heaven But oh, the entry dues.

Here is the infallible test. Imagine yourself in a situation where you are alone, wholly alone on earth, and you are offered one of the two, books or men. I often hear men prizing their solitude but that is only because there are still men somewhere on earth even though in the far distance. I knew nothing of books when I came forth from the womb of my mother, and I shall die without books, with another human hand in my own. I do, indeed, close my door at times and surrender myself to a book, but only because I can open the door again and see a human being looking at me.

The first time when I was organizing, I went out and started knocking on doors to see if people were registered to vote. I was a door knocker. I didn't even have the confidence that I could register people, so I just was out there door knocking. That was my first experience.

I want you to be concerned about your next door neighbor. Do you know your next door neighbor?

Don’t knock on any random door like a beggar. Reach your long hand out to another door, beyond where you go on the street, the street where everyone says, "How are you?" and no one says How aren’t you?

A compassionate attitude opens our inner door, and as a result it is much easier to communicate with others. If there is too much self-centered attitude, then fear, doubt and suspicion come and as a result our inner door closes. Then it is very difficult to communicate with others.

My next door neighbor just had a pacemaker installed. They're still working the bugs out, though. Every time he makes love, my garage door opens.

I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. If I were to imagine heaven, I would imagine a door opening. And he would be waiting for me there.

It is time to start going door to door and convincing our neighbours to vote for a clean-energy future.

The door of the novel, like the door of the poem, also shuts. But not so fast, nor with such manic, unanswerable finality.

A doctor’s door should never be closed, a priest's door should always be open.

That’s how Ptolemy imagined the disposition of his memories, his thoughts: they were still his, still in the range of his thinking, but they were, many and most of them, locked on the other side a closed door that he’s lost the key for. So his memory became like secrets held away from his own mind. But these secrets were noisy things; they babbled and muttered behind the door, and so if he listened closely he might catch a snatch of something he once knew well.

I'm not the kind of guy to knock at a door and then when the door is opened not go in.

If a door is shut, attempts should be made to open it; if it is ajar, it should be pushed until it is wide open. In neither case should the door be blown up at the expense of those inside.

Let us not grow tired of knocking at God's door. Let us go to the heart of God through Mary, our whole life, every day, knocking at the door of God's heart! Mary prays - prays together with the community of disciples, and teaches us to have full faith in God, in his mercy. This is the power of prayer!

Almost every time i saw you, you were with him. But one day, you walked up to the building alone. I was holding the door for several girls in front of you, and i waited for you to catch up. When you reached me, you look pleased, and a little surprised. Unlike the others, you didn't expect the door to be held for you by some random guy. You smiled up at me and said, 'Thank you.' That was the last straw. I prayed you 'd never come to a session, and not with him. I didn't want you to know i was the tutor.

The Watsons have lost sight of the fact that Mercy Watson is a pig, and they love her truly, madly, deeply. They live next door to two elderly sisters, Eugenia Lincoln and Baby Lincoln. Eugenia Lincoln is horrified that a pig is living in the house next door. Baby Lincoln secretly likes Mercy a great deal.

Ever since the Evil Empire turned out to be a collection of third-world countries, Americans aligned on the far right have tried to cast gay men and lesbians as the new enemy, calculating deviants seducing the nation's young, anti-Avon ladies selling sodomy door-to-door. This simply won't wash. Just as seeing the Russians up close and personal on television humanized them, so seeing the lesbian grandmother of two little girls wearing her gold medal with pride makes the notion of otherness, much less deviance, silly and ignorant.

Death is only an old door Set in a garden wall; On quiet hinges it gives, at dusk When the thrushes call. Along the lintel are green leaves, Beyond, the light lies still; Very weary and willing feet Go over that sill. There is nothing to trouble any heart; Nothing to hurt at all. Death is only an old door In a garden wall.

There are a lot of people who worked extremely hard in the election who are still organized who know how to do door to door and phone canvassing, who know how to raise money.

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.

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.

Do the work and then let the rest speak for itself and know that it feels personal, I knew it for me when I was younger. It all feels so personal, but if it's for you, it's for you. And if it's not, that's okay because the other door will open. The right door will open.

London opens to you like a novel itself. [...] It is divided into chapters, the chapters into scenes, the scenes into sentences; it opens to you like a series of rooms, door, passsage, door. Mayfair to Piccadilly to Soho to the Strand.

I always wondered, you know I watch "Cops" all the time - why doesn't a drug dealer design a trap door under their car? 'Cause cops don't have cameras under the cars, they get you for throwing stuff out the window! If you got a trap door under your car, boom! You would run over it. It would be genius.

...being Lulu, it made me realize that all my life I've been living in a small, square room, with no windows and no doors. And I was fine. I was happy, even. I thought. Then someone came along and showed me there was a door in the room. One that I'd never even seen before. Then he opened it for me. Held my hand as I walked through it. And for one perfect day, I was on the other side. I was somewhere else. Someone else. And then he was gone, and I was thrown back into my little room. And now, no matter what I do, I can't seem to find that door.

I could envision it all to clearly: Stuart or Debbie finding the dented door off its hinges, lying in the snow. "She came in, ravaged the boy, stole plastic bags, and ripped off the door in her escape," the police would say in the APB. "Probably making her way to bust her parents out of jail.

I think there are influences that you open the door to, and influences that come under the door.

Gratitude opens the door to... the power, the wisdom, the creativity of the universe. You open the door through gratitude.

I've done everything. Selling door-to-door fire extinguishers... In bars, I used to repair those machines that have 10 different buttons on them to spray club soda and seltzer.

Becoming baseball analyst was really important for me to not just be one of the first, but to literally break open the door and come in and stay, so that we could start inviting our friends and everyone, like, Come on. The door is open now. I am so proud of the fact that I put that pressure on myself: Alright, Jess, you've got a lot of women on your back right now and it's on you, so don't screw it up. I put that pressure on myself on purpose, so I'd realize it's not just about me, it's about a whole gender.

I always hated those fantasy books where, at the end, all the kids had to go home. At the end of a Narnia book, you always got shown the door. Same with The Wizard Of Oz and The Phantom Tollbooth. You get kicked out of your magic land. It's like, "By the way, here's your next surprise: You get to go home!" And the kids are all like, "Yay, we get to go home!" I never bought that. Did anybody buy that?

I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.

Stomp stomp. Whirr. Pleased to be of service. Shut up. Thank you. Stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp. Whirr. Thank you for making a simple door very happy. Hope your diodes rot. Thank you. Have a nice day. Stomp stomp stomp stomp. Whirr. It is my pleasure to open for you... Zark off. ...and my satisfaction to close again with the knowledge of a job well done. I said zark off. Thank you for listening to this message.

Fabio kept asking me out, but I knew we'd never get his ego through the door.

What, nephew, said the king, is the wind in that door?

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.

Down the hall came the wife. She was glorious, burning. She didn't know yet that her husband was dead. We knew. That's what gave her such power over us. The doctor took her into a room with a desk at the end of the hall, and from under the closed door a slab of brilliance radiated as if, by some stupendous process, diamonds were being incinerated in there. What a pair of lungs! She shrieked as I imagined an eagle would shriek. It felt wonderful to be alive to hear it! I've gone looking for that feeling everywhere.

I picked up the phone to call the police, but then I considered how it would sound when I told them that I was calling from inside my bathroom, where I’d OD’ed on laxatives, and that a possible rapist was quietly passing me notes under the bathroom door.

Everybody thinks I'm at death's door, but I'm not. There's nothing seriously wrong with me, and my heart is in 100 percent working order. Anything else you may hear is a damn lie!

If you're trying too hard to be the girl next door, you're not going to be.