The devils enter uninvited when the house stands empty. For other kinds of guests, you have to first open the door.
I'm the comedic girl next door and a lot of fun.
Adrian's new research partner stepped through the door, and I knew the uneasy peace we'd just established in Palm Springs was about to shatter. Dimitri Belikov had arrived.
Alec watched them through the half-open door, Jace leaned against the sink as his adoptive sister sponged his wrists and wrapped them in a white gauze. “Okay, now take off your shirt. ” (Isabelle) “I knew there was something in this for you. ” (Jace) ~pg. 329~
I have the greatest picture of Ted [Danson]. That was a big caper: There was one person [opening] the door with a butter knife and another person kicking the door in so I could get a photo. He's decapitated, but totally nude. And he's really well-endowed.
I've got the key to my castle in the air, but whether I can unlock the door remains to be seen.
Shay Given is champing on the door to be involved this weekend
We write to expose the unexposed. Most human beings are dedicated to keeping that one door shut. But the writer's job is to see what's behind it, to see the bleak unspeakable stuff, and to turn the unspeakable into words - not just into any words but if we can, into rhythm and blues. You can't do this without discovering your own true voice, and you can't find your true voice and peer behind the door and report honestly and clearly to us if your parents are reading over your shoulder.
THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has slid The bolt upon the door, To seek for the accomplished guest, -- Her visitor no more.
If my false figures came near to the facts, this happened merely by chance. . . These comments are not worth printing. Yet it gives me pleasure to remember how many detours I had to make, along how many walls I had to grope in the darkness of my ignorance until I found the door which lets in the light of the truth. . . In such manner did I dream of the truth.
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.
When I came back, after all those stories about Hitler and his snub, I came back to my native country, and I could not ride in the front of the bus. I had to go to the back door. I couldn't live where I wanted. Now what's the difference?
Rattle a lawyer's door and you get more lawyers.
My dad told me when I went into high school, 'It's not what you do when you walk in the door that matters. It's what you do when you walk out. ' That's when you've made a lasting impression.
[W]e're creating. . . an ownership society in this country, where more Americans than ever will be able to open up their door where they live and say, welcome to my house, welcome to my piece of property.
Imagine a life-form whose brainpower is to ours as ours is to a chimpanzee’s. To such a species, our highest mental achievements would be trivial. Their toddlers, instead of learning their ABCs on Sesame Street, would learn multivariable calculus on Boolean Boulevard. Our most complex theorems, our deepest philosophies, the cherished works of our most creative artists, would be projects their schoolkids bring home for Mom and Dad to display on the refrigerator door.
When perfect frankness comes in at the door love flies out of the window.
Hallo! A great deal of steam! the pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding.
This feeling is not unlike the sinking in one's stomach when one is in an elevator that suddenly goes down, or when you are snug in your bed and your closet door suddenly creaks open to reveal the person who has been hiding there.
The problem with being a modern woman, I thought, as the front door swung wide, is that you have to pretend to be stronger than you are.