A Quote by Bob Goff

If a door is shut, go up and wiggle it a little - don't assume it's locked. — © Bob Goff
If a door is shut, go up and wiggle it a little - don't assume it's locked.
I once missed an appointment because I left my house, I locked the door. And then I thought, like anybody else, you know, 'I don't think I locked the door.' I just kept going back to the door. And I couldn't stop myself from checking and checking.
Every day I go to my study and sit at my desk and put the computer on. At that moment, I have to open the door. It's a big, heavy door. You have to go into the Other Room. Metaphorically, of course. And you have to come back to this side of the room. And you have to shut the door.
[NFL fans] wish they'd shut up and play football, and I think the vast majority of people, "Shut up and act! Shut up and sing! Shut up and star in your TV show! Just shut up and do what you do, but shut up!" I think they're wearing out their welcome.
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.
I hung up. It was a good start, but it didn’t go far enough. I ought to have locked the door and hidden under the desk.
I have my family life and I think it's important to be able to shut the door and keep the door shut, and that keeps you grounded. You stay in reality.
Often God has to shut a door in our face, so that He can subsequently open the door through which He wants us to go.
The way the neurotic sees it: bars on his door mean that he's locked in; bars on your door mean that he's locked out.
The place that I worked I used to joke about it. There was a, every morning at 10:30 I'd come into work and I'd go into this cubicle that had a little upright piano and fake white cork bricks on the wall, and a little slate that came out of the wall that you could actually write on. And a door that locked from the outside. Every day from 10 to 6, we'd go in there and pretend that we were 13 year old girls and write these songs. That was the gig.
It’s Tolstoy, by the way,” I say as I open the door. He turns around. “What?” Shut up, I tell myself. Shut up. “The writer of Anna Karenina. Not Trotsky. Trotsky was a revolutionary who was stabbed with a pickax in Mexico in 1940. But I can understand how the T thing could confuse you.
Most of us feel on some level like race horses chomping at the bit, pressing at the gate, hoping and praying for someone to open the door and let us run out. We feel so much pent up energy, so much locked up talent. We know in our hearts that we were born to do great things, and we have a deep-seated dread of wasting our lives. But the only person who can free us is ourselves. Most of us know that. We realize that the locked door is our own fear.
The fact is that, in prison, you can't just go and be locked up and serve your time. That's not an option. You get locked up, and then you're going to go through hell and, if you're lucky, you'll come out somewhat of a human being, but you're probably going to be beyond traumatized, for the rest of your life. That's ridiculous!
I shut the front door upon Christ and Einstein, and at the back door hold out a welcoming hand to little frogs and periwinkles. I believe nothing of my own that I have ever written. I cannot accept that the products of minds are subject-matter for beliefs.
So, am I friendly with my daughter and her friends? Yes. Am I their friend? No. Does she shut the door? Yes, and I very much support the shut door.
Hidan: Hey, look at that, it's my headband! You went to the trouble of picking it up and keeping for me? I'm touched. You're a pretty nice guy, Kakuzu, you knwo that? Kakuzu: Shut up. Let's go. Hidan: Let me put it on at least! Okay, I'm coming. Admit it, you like me a little, doncha? Kakuzu: Either you shut up, or I'll kill you. Hidan: Haha, you're embarrassed! I understand.
Later on, when I tried to imagine how I might have ruined things, that would occur to me - that I'd so rarely resisted, that I hadn't made it hard enough for him. Maybe it was like gathering your strength and hurling your body against a door you believe to be locked, and then the door opens easily - it wasn't locked at all - and you're standing looking into the room, trying to remember what it was you thought you wanted.
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