To the optimist all doors have handles and hinges; to the pessimist, all doors have locks and latches.
There's truths there that spiral out of what appears to be just a word game. That's what I find mystifying about the meanings of things: they kind of unscrew themselves from the practical words.
The doors of Hell, insofar as they have locks, have locks on the inside.
Do you remember that old TV series, Get Smart? Do you remember at the beginning where Maxwell Smart is walking down the secret corridor and there are all of those doors that open sideways, and upside down and gateways and stuff? I think that everyone keeps a whole bunch of doors just like this between themselves and the world. But when you're in love, all of your doors are open, and all of their doors are open. And you roller-skate down your halls together.
Your trouble is, you keep trying to unscrew the unscrutable.
I will dream today; for I must unscrew my head somehow.
Doors have locks, citizens have guns, and countries have borders.
I turn you out of doors tenant desire you pay no rent I turn you out of doors all my best rooms are yours the brain and heart depart I turn you out of doors switch off the lights throw water on the fire I turn you out of doors stubborn desire.
What I didn't know was that if I didn't stand with my back to the wall, Hollywood people would unscrew my ass and sell it down the river.
Alzheimer's disease locks all the doors and exits. There is no reprieve, no escape.
I hold doors open for all the women. Men can open the doors for themselves.
don't be ashamed of anything; I guess God meant it all like locks on doors.
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.
As an adolescent, I went to charm school, where I learned to pour tea and relate to boys, which, as I recall, meant giving them the pickle jar to unscrew, whether it was too hard for me or not.
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.
To me, sex is sex and I don't think it is or should be a problem. Maybe my presenting it that way will unscrew up a few heads out there, including my own.