A Quote by Sylvia Plath

The door of the novel, like the door of the poem, also shuts. But not so fast, nor with such manic, unanswerable finality. — © Sylvia Plath
The door of the novel, like the door of the poem, also shuts. But not so fast, nor with such manic, unanswerable finality.
There are no lost opportunities in Divine Mind, as one door shuts another door is opened.
God never shuts one door without opening a bigger better door. Hang in there. You are closer to success than you may think.
When God gives you a door, if you want access, you go through that door. People didn't like Jesus. Oh, they had all kind of reasons to hate him but Jesus said, "I am the door. Any man who enters must come by me. If you don't come by me," he said, "you're a thief and a robber." Well, if Omarosa Manigault is the door to Donald Trump, well I kind of like that door. That's a pretty door. That's an intelligent door. That's a spiritually rooted door.
I see the poem or the novel ending with an open door.
The best advice my mom has ever given me is to never give up. She believes when one door shuts, another door opens. Always, always move forward.
Elizabeth's voice had a door in it. When you opened that door you found another door, and that door opened yet another door. All the doors were nice and led out of her.
One may enter the literary parlor via just about any door, be it the prison door, the madhouse door, or the brothel door. There is but one door one may not enter it through, which is the child room door. The critics will never forgive you such. The great Rudyard Kipling is one of a number of people to have suffered from this. I keep wondering to myself what this peculiar contempt towards anything related to childhood is all about.
When the War ended in 1945, I started selling vacuum cleaners door to door. Then I sold insurance door to door. I even tried selling cars.
The major problem of life is learning how to handle the costly interruptions. The door that slams shut, the plan that got sidetracked, the marriage that failed. Or that lovely poem that didn't get written because someone knocked on the door.
London opens to you like a novel itself. [...] It is divided into chapters, the chapters into scenes, the scenes into sentences; it opens to you like a series of rooms, door, passsage, door. Mayfair to Piccadilly to Soho to the Strand.
What you can't teach someone is how to find the door. You can't give someone a door to another universe. You can tell them that the door exists, and if they're stuck in the hallway you can be like, "You're stuck in the hallway," but you can't open the door for them.
As one door closes, another one shuts.
Where one door shuts another opens.
He grabbed for the coatrack that stood by the door, ripped the coats off it, and flung the door wide, the rack held above his head like a javelin. On the other side of the door was Jace. He blinked. "Is that a coatrack?
When God shuts a door, He opens a window.
The rest of the band tend to notice things like the door getting opened for the lead singer. And the door shuts on the rest of the band. The lead singer doesn't notice that, but the rest of the band does.
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