Best 3603 quotes in «doors quotes» category

My younger daughter told me recently that when she was a child she thought the typewriter was a toy that I went into my room and closed the door and played with.

Nail up some indecency in plain sight over your door; from that time forward you will be rid of all respectable people,the most insupportable folk God has created.

Naturally, when life's lessons knock at the door of our life, happiness can be momentarily obscured.

Neighbours: the strangers who live next door.

Need is a low door which, when we must by stern necessity pass through, forces the greatest to bend down the most.

Nannies love working in our house because they never know who's gonna walk through the door.

Never knock on death's door. Ring the doorbell then run. He totally hates that. - T-shirt

Never fear a job, always respect it, and always leave yourself a hind door to escape. May your hind door always be open.

Never do I close my door behind me without being conscious that I am carrying out an act of charity towards myself.

Never venture near the door where sin dwells, lest you are dragged in.

Never to lie is to have no lock on your door, you are never wholly alone.

Next door to Ethiopia spreading out along the strategic Red Sea coastline is Eritrea, a relatively new country, and a place that few Americans seem to fully understand.

Next thing you know she'll be on the bus and selling T-shirts in the parking lot, showing off her boobs to get in the stage door." "At least she has boobs to show," Jess said. "I have boobs," Chloe said, pointing to her chest. "Just because they're not weighing me down doesn't mean they're not substantial." "Okay, B cup," Jess said, taking a sip of her drink. "I have boobs!" Chloe said again, a bit too loudly--she'd already had a couple of minibottles at the Spot. "My boobs are great, goddammit. You know that? They're fantastic! My boobs are amazing.

Next comes the realist phase ("After all, from a purely geometrical point of view a cat is only a tube with a door at the top.")

Nicole was always there with her door open, her arms open, her ears open - just what you need.

Nick and Simon had come to a natural end of their working relationship with Warren, which obviously opened the door for a reunion of the original five.

Night and day I pondered until I saw the connection between the justice of God and the statement that 'the just shall live by his faith.' Then I grasped that the justice of God is that righteousness by which through grace and sheer mercy God justifies us through faith. Thereupon I felt myself to be reborn and to have gone through open doors into paradise.

Nobility of character manifests itself at loop-holes when it is not provided with large doors.

Never slam a car door. According to the Westchester elite, it's a heinous crime, as heartless as kicking a puppy.

Nodding, Cery strode to the door and stepped through. Though the burly guards eyes him suspiciously, Cery smiled back. Never make enemies of someone's lackeys, his father had taught him. Better still, make them like you a lot.

New Orleans invented the brown paper bag party - usually at a gathering in a home - where anyone darker than the bag attached to the door was denied entrance. The brown bag criterion survives as a metaphor for how the black cultural elite quite literally establishes caste along color lines within black life.

No man will be kept in hell loner than is necessary to bring him to a fitness for something better. When he reaches that stage the prison doors will open and there will be rejoicing among the hosts who welcome him into a better state.

No business can stay in business without customers. How you treat - or mistreat - them determines how long your doors stay open.

No matter how often you knock at nature's door, she won't answer in words you can understand--for Nature is dumb. She'll vibrate and moan like a violin, but you mustn't expect a song.

No matter what your work, let it be your own. No matter what your occupation, let what you are doing be organic. Let it be in your bones. In this way, you will open the door by which the affluence of heaven and earth shall stream into you.

No matter what I do now, there are certain doors I have already closed, certain opportunities I'll never get back. There's nothing to be done, I guess. It is what it is.

None of the wives mention the security guards by the door, who will probably tackle us to the ground if we try to leave without our husbands.

No matter your spiritual beliefs, if you hold any, the answer is the same: sometimes, why is not knowable. If you open the refrigerator door and a tub of Kozy Shack tapioca pudding tumbles out and splats open onto the floor, you clean it. You don’t stand there and question why it happened, how it was possible. Why doesn’t matter now.

None can comprehend eternity but the eternal God. Eternity is an ocean, whereof we shall never see the shore; it is a deep, where we can find no bottom; a labyrinth from whence we cannot extricate ourselves and where we shall never lose the door.

No one can feel more gratefully the charm of noble scenery, or the refreshment of escape into the unspoiled solitudes of nature, than the laborer at some close in-door employment.

No one can explain exactly what happens within us when the doors behind which our childhood terrors lurk are flung open.

No, no, no, I don't snort no more, I'm tired of waking up on the floor. No thank you please, it only makes me sneeze, then it makes it hard to find the door.

No outward doors of a man's house can in general be broken open to execute any civil process; though in criminal cases the public safety supersedes the private.

No one else has ever opened doors for me - I opened them myself.

No one is banging my door down to be a superhero. I don't know how good I would be. I have low bone density, so I don't know if anyone really wants to put me in a cape and chuck me out a window. But a lot of my friends, who are great actors and who come from film, are doing TV because that's where the opportunities are. For us, it does feel like it's similar to making the movies that we used to make.

No one likes the house next door to look worse or a lot better than his own.

Not every loss was confirmed by an officer at the door. Nor a telegram with the power to sink a fleet. Loss, often the worst kind, also arrived through the deafening quiet of an absence.

No tabloid will ever print the startling news that the mummified body of Jesus of Nazareth has been discovered in old Jerusalem. Christians have no carefully embalmed body enclosed in a glass case to worship. Thank God, we have an empty tomb. The glorious fact that the empty tomb proclaims to us is that life for us does not stop when death comes. Death is not a wall, but a door.

No sensible person ever opens the door of his house without knowing who is knocking.

Nothing attracts me like a closed door. I cannot let my camera rest until I have pried it open.

Nothing but physical impossibility, lack of space and money would make me close my doors to Allied refugees.

Nothing belongs to me. Everything comes and goes. Serenity is an open door.

Nothing sickens me more than the closed door of a library.

Nothing is allowed in public, while everything is permitted behind closed doors.

Nothing in life has happened to you. It's happened for you. Every disappointment. Every wrong. Even every closed door has helped make you into who you are.

Not many sounds in life, and I include all urban and all rural sounds, exceed in interest a knock at the door.

Now, of course, people know that over the last several months prior to February 21st, 1965, the OAAU and MMI tried to get away from the old practices of checking people at the door for weapons. They wanted people to feel more comfortable.

Now I'm just like everybody else, and it's so funny, the way monogamy is funny, the way someone falling down in the street is funny. I entered a revolving door and emerged as a human being. When you think of me is my face electronically blurred?

Now, bitterly, with one sweep of the front door, the compassion was spent. To the degree that Lawrence's face was familiar, it was killingly so - as if she had been gradually getting to know him for over nine years and then, bang, he was known. She'd been handed her diploma. There were no more surprises - or only this last surprise, that there were no more surprises. To torture herself, Irina kept looking, and looking, at Lawrence's face, like turning the key in an ignition several times before resigning herself that the battery was dead.

No wonder the tulip is the patron flower of Holland. Looking at it one almost smells fresh paint laid on in generous brilliance: doors, blinds, whole houses, canal boats, pails, farm wagons - all painted in greens, blues, reds, pinks, yellows.