Your adventure has to be coming out of your own interior. If you are ready for it then doors will open where there were no doors before, and where there would not be doors for anyone else. And you must have courage. It's the call to adventure, which means there is no security, no rules.
For the longest time I studied revenge to the exclusion of all else. I built my first torture chamber in the dark vaults of imagination. Lying on bloody sheets in the Healing Hall I discovered doors within my mind that I'd not found before, doors that even a child of nine knows should not be opened. Doors that never close again. I threw them wide.
Everyone has doors in the living room of their lives that they assume are locked. Doors that lead to artistic expression. People say "I have no talent -- I can't dance or sing or paint or write poetry or play an instrument." More often than not the doors are not locked, just closed. One may turn the handle, open the door and pass through into a larger life space.
They say that when one door closes, another opens. Why just one and not many? It stands to reason that if there are two doors there have to be more. Besides doors are doors; they open and close all the time. That is what they're meant to do. If a door is locked, you can even turn the knob, or, kick it open. It all depends on how desperately you want to use that door.
There were doors that looked like large keyholes, others that resembled the entrances to caves, there were golden doors, some were padded and some were studded with nails, some were paper-thin and others as thick as the doors of treasure houses; there was one that looked like a giant's mouth and another that had to be opened like a drawbridge, one that suggested a big ear and one that was made of gingerbread, one that was shaped like an oven door, and one that had to be unbuttoned.
Suppose you're on a game show, and you're given the choice of three doors. Behind one door is a car, the others, goats. You pick a door, say #1, and the host, who knows what's behind the doors, opens another door, say #3, which has a goat. He says to you: 'Do you want to pick door #2?' Is it to your advantage to switch your choice of doors?
Marilyn vos Savant
You have to come to your closed doors before you get to your open doors... What if you knew you had to go through 32 closed doors before you got to your open door? Well, then you'd come to closed door number eight and you'd think, 'Great, I got another one out of the way'... Keep moving forward.
My mother, a very eclectic listener, had the first Doors album and gave it to me when I expressed interest in the band. It was one of the first records I ever had. As the years passed, the babysitters who used to look after me would bring their Doors albums to the apartment, and that's how I got to hear their later work.
I know that when my grandfather crossed the Rio Grande, somebody was there to support him and to fight for him. I know when my dad was discriminated against because he was a Hispanic, somebody opened doors for him, and that's why he opened doors for others. That's what we do as Americans.
When last did u sit back and took an opportunity to lookup and thank the Heavens above for blessing you with what you have and continuing to open doors for you every time you knock "and sometimes letting you in through the window" because not all doors are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the inside
Oh, God, open all doors for me. Oh God who answers prayers and answers those who ask you, I am asking you for your help. I am asking you for forgiveness. I am asking you to lighten my way. I am asking you to lift the burden I feel. Oh God, you who open all doors, please open all doors for me, open all venues for me, open all avenues for me. God, I trust in you. God, I lay myself in your hands.... There is no God but God, I being a sinner. We are of God, and to God we return.
I think that I am lucky and blessed to have the job that I have, and I am trying to create longevity. If that means that I transition into different things at different points in my life, then that's fine. I also believe that if doors don't open, make new doors, so I've also started producing quite a bit of things.
There are passages and doors And Realms that lie unseen. There are Roads both wide and narrow And no avenue between. Doors Remain closed for those Who in sad vanity yet hide. Yet when Belief is chosen, The key appears inside. What is lived now will soon pass, And what is not will come to Be. The Door Within must open, For one to truly see. Do you see? Believe and enter.
Wayne Thomas Batson
HAZEL: "THERE," she said.The official building on their left had a single word etched on the glass doors: AMAZON. "oh," Frank said."Uh, no, Hazel. That's a modern thing. They're a company, Right? they sell stuff on the internet. They're not actually Amazons." "Unless..." Percy walked through the doors.
There is no soul; there is only consciousness, the highest thing man ever has! Losing the conscious means to die! Death is not a door; when our conscious is gone, all is gone! Only the existence has the doors! Only the life presents you doors! You can save yourself only when you are alive, not after because there is no after! The first step for salvation is to know this simple truth!
Mehmet Murat Ildan
While I had no intention of ending the series after 'The Spellmans Strike Again,' I did close many doors in that book and, with the fifth one, I was opening a lot of doors and not finding anything behind them and then opening another door and another until I found something. It was a while before I found my stride.
Every human being on the face of the earth has a steel plate in his head, but if you lie down now and then and get still as you can, it will slide open like elevator doors, letting in all the secret thoughts that have been standing around so patiently, pushing the button for a ride to the top. The real troubles in life happen when those hidden doors stay closed for too long.
Sue Monk Kidd
There is this strange fog of being a young man that I would refer to as soft time. Time does not go forward there. It's a series of doors that kind of wind back into one another, like a series of doors in the upper floor of a house. You revisit the same lessons over and over again, or you choose to ignore them.
What is a woman's power then?" she asked. "I don't think we know." "When has a woman power because she's a woman? With her children, I suppose. For a while..." "In her house, maybe." She looked around the kitchen. "But the doors are shut," she said, "the doors are locked." "Because you're valuable." "Oh yes. We're precious. So long as we're powerless.
Ursula K. Le Guin
We are born into a vast room whose walls consist of a thousand doors of possibility. Each door is flung open to the world outside, and the room is filled with light and noise. We close some of the doors deliberately, sometimes with fear, sometimes with calm certainty. Others seem to close by themselves, some so quietly that we do not even notice.
The trail of life may be narrow and bumpy, could be crammed with deadly insects and venomous thorns, but it is built with ample number of doors everywhere for sure. Yet, access to most of them remains imperceptible till the one which remained open to us gets shut. But then, we would again be left stranded, bemused, staring at many new doors-this time, unable to decide which one to choose! And usually, we even refuse to knock any.
I don't even like the word 'indoors'. It doesn't make sense. According to you right now, by stepping through the doorway I'd be indoors. Yet I wouldn't actually be standing in the doorway. If it's supposed to refer to being inside a building, then they shouldn't have used the word 'door, ' since last time I checked, doors don't make up every square inch of a building! And I'd assume that now, since I'm not indoors, you'd say I'm 'out of doors', right? But, shouldn't out of doors just be everywhere that's not directly under a door? You know what, from now on I insist that everyone refer to being in a building as being 'under-roof'.
And then sometimes I think the people to feel saddest for are people who once knew what profoundness was, but who lost or became numb to the sensation of wonder "" people who closed the doors that leads us into the secret world "" or who had the doors closed for them by time and neglect and decisions made in times of weakness.
Placing the burden on the individual to break down doors in finding better education for a child is attractive to conservatives because it reaffirms their faith in individual ambition and autonomy. But to ask an individual to break down doors that we have chained and bolted in advance of his arrival is unfair.
We still have too many Americans who give in to their fears of those who are different from them. Not so long ago, swastikas were painted on the doors of some African-American members of our Special Forces at Ft. Bragg. They are special forces. They do not deserve to have swastikas on their doors.
William J. Clinton
The moon seemed to veil herself before the bold looks of Satan. The night was cold. All the doors were closed, all the windows darkened. and the streets deserted. From their appearance, one would have imagined that, for a long time past no foot had traversed those silent streets. Everything around us bore a death-like aspect. It seemed as if, when day came, no one would open their doors; that no head, of woman or of child, would look out of those dark, dull windows; that no step would break the silence which fell, like a pall, upon all around. I seemed to be walking in a city which had been buried some ages. In truth, the town seemed to have been depopulated, and the cemetery to have grown full. Still we went forward, without hearing a murmur, or meeting even with a shadow. The street stretched for a long way across this fearful city of silence and repose. At last we reached my house. 'You remember it?' said the fiend. 'Yes, ' replied I, sullenly, 'let us enter.' 'First, ' said he, 'we must open the door. It is I, by the way, who invented the science of opening doors without breaking them in. In fact, I have a second key to all doors and gates - with one exception - that of Paradise!
James Hain Friswell
When you're a Republican Latino, you're traveling uphill on a lonely road. Still, it's the road I prefer. It has led me to opportunity far beyond my dreams. I've worked on eight Republican presidential races, as well as for some of the world's largest corporations, all because the doors of opportunity, not the doors of welfare, were open to me.
But, after all, one cannot, at sixty-two, look back down the corridor of one's life and not have some doubts about the journey one has made. The doors which one opened are now all closed. The doors one did not dare open remain shut. The corridor is dark; only ahead is lighter. So one turns and proceeds in that direction. To go back is madness. To turn left or right, at this stage, is both exhausting and dangerous.
If we go looking for a friend, we'll find many locked doors. It can be a lonely and often fruitless search. Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard we knock there's not a single person to be found for true friendship. But... when we go out to BE a friend, we find an endless supply of open doors and people to share and experience our lives with. And that's the real key. ~Jason Versey
I couldn't get to sleep. The book lay nearby. A thin object on the divan. So strange. Between two cardboard covers were noises, doors, howls, horses, people. All side by side, pressed tightly against one another. Boiled down to little black marks. Hair, eyes, voices, nails, legs, knocks on doors, walls, blood, beards, the sound of horseshoes, shouts. All docile, blindly obedient to the little black marks. The letters run in mad haste, now here, now there. The a's, f's, y's, k's all run. They gather together to create a horse or a hailstorm. They run again. Now they create a dagger, a night, a murder. Then streets, slamming doors, silence. Running and running. Never stopping.
It's a romantic view of Canada. It's like Michael Moore saying we don't lock our doors in Canada. I lock my door mainly because my girlfriend wants me to lock the door, but mind you we lock our doors. It is a little simplistic to say that we blend easily back home with other cultures. It's difficult, but I think it's mainly a big city phenomenon.
Someone once said that marriage is like standing in a corridor lined with doors. You go off through your door, he goes through his, but at the end of the day you have to come back to the corridor, touch base, hold hands, because through every door are more doors, and beyond them, more again, and if you both go through too many without coming back to the corridor, you may never find your way back.
A million dollars. Think about it for a moment. It's not just a large number - it's a symbol of everything we've been told to want in this world. Foreign cars with doors that swing up like magical wings. Houses with in-ground pools and wine cellars. Wines that are older than you, and foods with names that can't be pronounced by mere mortals. A million dollars would open the kind of doors the general public doesn't even know exist.
So if you find nothing in the corridors open the doors, and if you find nothing behind these doors there are more floors, and if you find nothing up there, don't worry, just leap up another flight of stairs. As long as you don't stop climbing, the stairs won't end, under your climbing feet they will go on growing upwards
I opened the doors of my heart.And behold,There was music within and a song,And echoes did feed on the sweetness, repeating it long.I opened the doors of my heart. And behold,There was music that played itself out in aeolian notes:Then was heard, as a far-away bell at long intervals tolled.