A Quote by Jodi Picoult

Close a door, and you'd still feel a breeze through the window. — © Jodi Picoult
Close a door, and you'd still feel a breeze through the window.
At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me. Close the language-door and open the love-window. The moon won't use the door, only the window.
Prose is like a window; fiction is like a door. But it is not uncommon that he who should come in through the door jumps in through the window.
I am not really breaking any rules. Charlie said I could never take another step through the door again... I came in through the window... Still, the intent was clear," said Edward.
He had no one but himself to blame, for he’d opened himself up to it. Just a fraction at first, like a crack in a window. But the funny thing was, once you welcomed in a breeze, there was no stopping what came next. A wind, a storm, thunder and lightning, until you could no longer reach the window to close it—and didn’t really want to anyway. That’s what this new darkness was. Evil in its purest form... -Paris
Close the language-door, and open the love-window
Oh, my God, this amazing cool breeze is coming through my window and the sun is shining. I'm happy.
For me, as a feminist, as somebody who wants to lift up women - because I do; I come from a single mom who raised three boys on her own - I feel like, you close the door on women, you close the door on humanity.
Love is just like a breeze: it comes, but you should not close your doors to keep the breeze inside.
If I see a door comin' my way, I'm knockin' it down. And if I can't knock down the door, I'm sliding through the window.
Those who enter through the back door can expect to be shown out through the window
I’ve written this poem before but always through a window, never through an open door.
What you really want for yourself is always trying to break through, just as a cooling breeze flows through an open window on a hot day. Your part is to open the windows of your mind.
A lot of people give up, but you can't stop me. If you close the door, I'll just jump out the window.
Reality can be entered through the main door or it can be slipped into through a window, which is much more fun.
When one door closes, find another." Kylie gazed back up. "And what if there isn't another door?" "Then you try the window." "And if there's not a window?" Kylie asked. "Then you find a sledgehammer and make a window.
Shut the door, they're coming through the window, shut the window, they're coming through the door," are the words to an old song. They fit my lifestyle with newly arriving butcher/censors every month. Only six weeks ago, I discovered that, over the years, some cubby-hole editors at Ballantine Books, fearful of contaminating the young, had, bit by bit, censored some 75 separate sections from the novel. Students, reading the novel which, after all, deals with censorship and book-burning in the future, write to tell me of this exquisite irony.
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