For many years, at great cost, I traveled through many countries, saw the high mountains, the oceans. The only things I did not see were the sparkling dewdrops in the grass just outside my door.
You never know what someone is dealing with behind closed doors. You only know what you see or what you think you see.
Obedience is the key that opens every door.
We're all going to be tested. The dark energy is going to knock on all of our doors.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As if some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--Only this and nothing more.
But just as the river is always at the door, so is the world always outside. And it is in the world that we have to live.
The long and winding road that leads to your door Will never disappear, I've seen that road before it always leads me here, Leads me to your door.
The Painter who seeks popularity in Art closes the door upon his own genius.
Mediocrity has a way of keeping demons from the door.
Paper money has had the effect in your state that it will ever have, to ruin commerce, oppress the honest, and open the door to every species of fraud and injustice.
Frustration is a sign I am acting independently. The more you try your own way, the tighter the doors will stay closed.
The story of my life is about back entrances, side doors, secret elevators and other ways of getting in and out of places so that people won't bother me.
Genius involves figuring out who you are, and owning yourself. It's about amplifying your best traits and compensating for the rest. Geniuses grab life by the horns, and persevere amidst setbacks. They take control of their lives, instead of waiting for others to open up doors. In this very important sense, greatness in completely, utterly, made.
As a rule, I don't enjoy being tossed into closets and having the door shut on my face, but I knew he was protecting me.
Very slowly he turned his head back to look at Shmuel, who wasn't crying anymore, merely staring at the floor and looking as if he was trying to convince his soul not to live inside his tiny body anymore, but to slip away and sail to the door and rise up into the sky, gliding through the clouds until it was very far away. '' -The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
The most precious things of life are near at hand, without money and without price. Each of you has the whole wealth of the universe at your very door. All that I ever had, and still have, may be yours by stretching forth your hand and taking it.
For a devotee death opens door for liberation but for a non-devotee death is end of everything.
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. "
Planning a wedding is hell. Things are said. Doors are slammed. Quarrels about the most inconsequential things--yellow tablecloths or white? hors d'oeuvres set out on tables or passed around on trays?--are often pitched at such a level that it seems the combatants may never recover from them. Much of the anxiety, of course, is tribal. It is wrenching to have to open the sacred circle to admit an outsider.
I love to write out of doors and sleep out of doors, too. If I sleep under the open sky it becomes part of the writing experience, part of my insulation from the world.