People dance and we have a lot of music and. . . this might be the closet I get for a while.
American closets are filled with once-worn clothes that got a bad review from a friend on their first appearance.
Militant homosexuals, pro-abortionists, occultists, New Agers, pornographers, radical feminists, atheists, paganists and a whole collection of angry anti-Christian groups are all coming out of their closets and onto the battlefield. Their common denominator is a hatred for Christianity and for any expression of traditional values.
I have 4 bedrooms in my house. 1 is for guests, the other 3 are for closets.
I say my hell is the closet I'm stuck inside.
We will not win our rights by staying quietly in our closets.
We all have our own closets to come out of
I hate a messy closet. I totally freak out when my closet is messy and I can't find anything.
The more it happens, the easier it is for others, although I do understand why some actors choose not to come out. I have several famous friends who are still in the closet.
One time I actually cleaned out my closet so good I ended up on the cover of Time magazine.
Seek to know God in your closets, call upon him in the fields. Follow the directions of the Book of Mormon, and pray over, and for your families, your cattle, your flocks, your herds, your corn, and all things that you possess [see Alma 34:18-27]; ask the blessing of God upon all your labors, and everything that you engage in.
We recently had an extension built, to house a closet. It's like the Tardis - I go in there and never come out.
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.
The gay community just recognizes what their closets are and we straight have to spend years trying to figure out which closet we are trapped in.
There hasn't been a more effeminate Jew in the closet since Anne Frank.
I am not in the closet. I am not coming out of the closet. I am not gay.
I have to come out of the closet of the third person and speak in a more direct way.
In convent, I live for 4 months in a broom closet. I do not rot.
A squat cannot be performed on a Smith machine any more than it can be performed in a small closet with a hamster.
Bourgeois existence is the regime of private affairs. . . and the family is the rotten, dismal edifice in whose closets and crannies the most ignominious instincts are deposited. Mundane life proclaims the total subjugation of eroticism to privacy.