Doors. It’s soo funny I should get this word now. I just felt I needed to share. to open doors and Every time I want to share it seems I write. Writing is my door. I want to open this door. I want to write. This is what I want to do with my life. Everything else needs to go by the wayside. Can I do this? Help…
There were six doors in the entire house, but they all led to the same core room: The Zone Room. It didn’t matter if you were waltzing out in a bathrobe with toothpaste still stuck to your lower lip. It didn’t matter if you had just finished scrubbing a stubborn spot of egg yolk off a tarnished frying pan. It didn’t matter if you had just had the best sex of your life, cleaned up, and gone out for a bottle of wine or a pack of cigarettes. You always wound up in the Zone Room. And it was a good thing.
Everywhere are doors that lead to nowhere. An opportunity seemingly pops up, so I take the chance, open the door, and there’s nothing but a fucking brick wall on the other side. I’m tired of opening doors. I’m tired of trying and going nowhere. I just want to be a space where there are no doors, no tantalizing tricks, and I know I’ll always safely remaine closed in.
the door was open, leading to a new world.
the door lead to a world not known by most, only even thought of by the most elite and the special agents of project Artemis.
I am one of those agents, and maybe if you can convince me to, I might be able to give you a tour.
If i can convince my boyfriend to give me the key.
Doors. Doors everywhere. Just open the doors. Let me out. I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t know why I’m in here. I didn’t do it, I swear, whatever it may be.
Please let me out, I promise I’ll be good. Please, just give me one more chance, I’ll stay where you want and I do as I’m told.
These doors, why are these wretched doors closed? I claw and scream at them, with bloody fingers and a swollen throat, but I cannot seem to reach you. I cannot be heard no matter how hard I try.
Why doors? Why me? Why won’t you let me in? I don’t want to hurt you, my love. I only want to help. When I can’t reach you, I can’t save you.
She opened door after door until finally, she came upon a hallway. This one didn’t have just one door like the others – no, this one had two. And they were both open.
In one door she saw her past. She saw her parents as she saw them in her childhood – perpetually fighting, trying to keep their voices down when she was there.
And in another door, she saw her future. She saw herself with a drunk and angry husband and a crying baby at the side.
The message was clear, but the choice was hard: would she fix her past, or change her future?
i can only see the doors,
hundreds of thousands of doors,
all only following a few steps
in any and every direction.
i’ll see where my feet want to go
and i’ll let my fingers grasp
these coppery doorknobs
until i figure out where my adventure is heading.
I stand in a hallway, doors on both sides all open .. all waiting. All leading somewhere new and exciting. The only issue is that I know once I walk through one of these doors, there is no turning back. The hallway seems to stretch on forever, an limitless number of paths before me — how will I know that I have chosen the right one? How can I possibly be sure that I make a good choice? I am driven to immobility by the bounty of possibilities before me.
Opening and closing doors is one of the recommended strategies for life and happiness. The theory is that we keep our options open, keep all the doors in play, even when there is no benefit in doing so and making choices will simplifying our lives in the long term and make us happier. There is the short term pain in closing a door, giving up an option, but usually that is compensated for by more clarity and a simpler, happier life. Will we get to the end of a long life and look back regretting the choices we made and the doors we closed? Will we get down a path of closing doors to the point where there are only a few options left and none of them are worth choosing? Is closing a door a choice or a point where we give up?
I have doors I could close now, but I would regret it now and in also in the future. The door is not life affirming. I think I need to work out what my criteria are for choice. If I am looking at long term happiness, then I should allow this door to close now to get over the situation and move forward hoping to an easier life. This situation has a sense of inevitability, a pending doom, a dread. Watching it happen is irresistible, absorbing, like watching a slow motion destruction as the emotions are squeezed out a drop at a time.There is care there so no-one will get hurt, but there is no future in it.
I rather like the concept of the door; it opens, then it closes, much lie the life of a human being. I also like that no door, no matter how locked or blocked in may be, is ever closed forever.
“Please make yourself at home; as always, the library is open to you.” he said, gesturing towards them. “And, if there’s nothing else, Miss Lawson, I’ll fetch Master Nathaniel.”
“Thank you, Anton.” I remarked as I stepped inside the large and comforting room. I’d only taken my seat when the doors opened once more.
“I new it wasn’t Edward in here.”
I looked up, surprised at the dulcet feminine tones. “…Arabella? Is that you?” I asked, near-incredulous.
“Emilia Ashton, as I live and breath.” she said, stepping forward to embrace me. “It’s so good to see you; what brings you to Elsmere?”
Door. Opening, closing. Blue, red, tiled stairs leading up it. Her face, my hand, a breeze, the creaking, it’s creaking, it’s closing not opening. My feet are down the tiled steps. Was it blue or red?
The idea of doors opening and closing throughout your life is an interesting one- at the moment I feel like I’m halfway through one, and I’m not sure if it’s pushing me out into the next room or whether I have the option to go back into the previous, known room. I can see it with other people too- they are all experiencing change, going through their own doors and rooms, and it’s difficult, because with some people, I don’t even know if we’ll go through the door together.
Doors hold the meaning to life. Sure, they allow a person to pass from one room to the next, but they mean way more. Doors are a new beginning. When one door opens, another door will have to close. You can’t be on both sides of a door.
Doors. They hold the meaning to a lot of things. Sure, they help us get to one place to the next by separating two different places. But, doors hold more significance. They represent a new beginning. If a door closes then that time is up and a new time is about to begin.
Doors. They hold the meaning to a lot of things. Sure, they help us get to one place to the next by separating two different places. But, doors hold more significance. They represent a new beginning. If a door closes then that time is up and a new time is about to begin.
The best way forward is through the open door. Why try to blast your way through a wall when a door stands open? Obstacles aren’t always meant to be a challenge set before us to provide a lesson.
Doors can lead to many places. They can lead to happiness, and they can lead to unbearable sadness. They are real, and they can transcend reality. A metaphorical door is a chance at fate, and I find that many men and women are willing to take the risk to open a door.
Doors mark the point along our journey were rites of passage are made. Our past will always be part of us but we can certainly close the door on the parts of our lives which do not ever have to be re-visited. Each and every day we have the privilege of stepping into brand new experiences and opportunities!
I tapped on the red brick wall three times. The bricks moved and I couldn’t believe what I saw. There stood thousands of doors, glittering ones, different coloured ones, old ones, new ones and ones that didn’t have handles or doorknobs.
I hadn’t seen Della in eight years. We used to listen to The Doors in the cafeteria on our lunch break during high school. “We’ve got the house and we’ve been together three years, but nobody understands why we’re not married or have children. I guess we’re behind everyone else,” she joked.
“I’m still single,” I pointed out. The one left since graduation.
would there be doors to go into dreams like i had last night about the fish with large mouths hunting for coins without prepositions we tie to them in order to make sense or wealth that would d be my first door if i were to choose to open to the other side of an impossible
I thought about the choice that lay in front of me. How can I describe it?
Two doors. Identical. Both made of some kind of hard wood, plain brass door knob, and nothing exceptional surrounding them. Just two plain doors in a plain room. It was funny though. I knew that whichever I chose would influence my life greatly. Any choice does, really.
Doors, doors, so many doors. One closes and another opens, so many places to go, opportunities to take, people to meet. Monsters Inc. also comes to mind. Trap doors, fairy doors, so many doors.
Doors open when you aren’t looking. Down long, narrow hallways, or in wide open rooms. There are always new doors opening. All you have to do is step through.
God is supposed to open doors for people, and show them love and compassion and forgiveness. If God really is what the Westboro Baptist Church claims He is, I’d rather die than live on His earth.
The doors of the castle were made of solid mahogany, with intricate inlays of ivory depicting scenes of knights on parade. The handles bore the resemblance of golden lions, long since absent from the lands.
never really opening for me. seems i always need to push my way through. some doors are so lovely while others covee the hovel replicated as life. how I long to find the door that opens into my passage ways,. hear the knock that brings the silent repose that always means someone is the always there.
The doors wouldn’t open, they were closed, as my life. it was time to say goodbye, but there was something holding me back, the posibility of a future with him. I can’t die, not here not now. I’ll live.
Doors. They can be just the plain things around your house that leads to other rooms. But they can also be a symbol, a metaphor. For a new beginning. Like the saying, “When one door closes, another opens”. Doors are the openings to new things, even if it’s just a new place. And actual physical doors are very convenient for keeping other people, or sound, or light, partially out.
Doors. It’s soo funny I should get this word now. I just felt I needed to share. to open doors and Every time I want to share it seems I write. Writing is my door. I want to open this door. I want to write. This is what I want to do with my life. Everything else needs to go by the wayside. Can I do this? Help…
There were six doors in the entire house, but they all led to the same core room: The Zone Room. It didn’t matter if you were waltzing out in a bathrobe with toothpaste still stuck to your lower lip. It didn’t matter if you had just finished scrubbing a stubborn spot of egg yolk off a tarnished frying pan. It didn’t matter if you had just had the best sex of your life, cleaned up, and gone out for a bottle of wine or a pack of cigarettes. You always wound up in the Zone Room. And it was a good thing.
Everywhere are doors that lead to nowhere. An opportunity seemingly pops up, so I take the chance, open the door, and there’s nothing but a fucking brick wall on the other side. I’m tired of opening doors. I’m tired of trying and going nowhere. I just want to be a space where there are no doors, no tantalizing tricks, and I know I’ll always safely remaine closed in.
the door was open, leading to a new world.
the door lead to a world not known by most, only even thought of by the most elite and the special agents of project Artemis.
I am one of those agents, and maybe if you can convince me to, I might be able to give you a tour.
If i can convince my boyfriend to give me the key.
Doors. Doors everywhere. Just open the doors. Let me out. I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t know why I’m in here. I didn’t do it, I swear, whatever it may be.
Please let me out, I promise I’ll be good. Please, just give me one more chance, I’ll stay where you want and I do as I’m told.
These doors, why are these wretched doors closed? I claw and scream at them, with bloody fingers and a swollen throat, but I cannot seem to reach you. I cannot be heard no matter how hard I try.
Why doors? Why me? Why won’t you let me in? I don’t want to hurt you, my love. I only want to help. When I can’t reach you, I can’t save you.
She opened door after door until finally, she came upon a hallway. This one didn’t have just one door like the others – no, this one had two. And they were both open.
In one door she saw her past. She saw her parents as she saw them in her childhood – perpetually fighting, trying to keep their voices down when she was there.
And in another door, she saw her future. She saw herself with a drunk and angry husband and a crying baby at the side.
The message was clear, but the choice was hard: would she fix her past, or change her future?
A few doors down. I recognized those screams. But I did nothing. Nothing. I was staring at my hands like I am now.
i can only see the doors,
hundreds of thousands of doors,
all only following a few steps
in any and every direction.
i’ll see where my feet want to go
and i’ll let my fingers grasp
these coppery doorknobs
until i figure out where my adventure is heading.
Doors to places I can never return. I close them one by one. Lock them fast, hand off the keys, breathe deep, start walking and just never look back.
I stand in a hallway, doors on both sides all open .. all waiting. All leading somewhere new and exciting. The only issue is that I know once I walk through one of these doors, there is no turning back. The hallway seems to stretch on forever, an limitless number of paths before me — how will I know that I have chosen the right one? How can I possibly be sure that I make a good choice? I am driven to immobility by the bounty of possibilities before me.
Opening and closing doors is one of the recommended strategies for life and happiness. The theory is that we keep our options open, keep all the doors in play, even when there is no benefit in doing so and making choices will simplifying our lives in the long term and make us happier. There is the short term pain in closing a door, giving up an option, but usually that is compensated for by more clarity and a simpler, happier life. Will we get to the end of a long life and look back regretting the choices we made and the doors we closed? Will we get down a path of closing doors to the point where there are only a few options left and none of them are worth choosing? Is closing a door a choice or a point where we give up?
I have doors I could close now, but I would regret it now and in also in the future. The door is not life affirming. I think I need to work out what my criteria are for choice. If I am looking at long term happiness, then I should allow this door to close now to get over the situation and move forward hoping to an easier life. This situation has a sense of inevitability, a pending doom, a dread. Watching it happen is irresistible, absorbing, like watching a slow motion destruction as the emotions are squeezed out a drop at a time.There is care there so no-one will get hurt, but there is no future in it.
Opening and closing.
I can’t handle the rejection.
Through the maze I continue to go.
I hope one day I find my way out.
Opening and closing.
I can’t keep up.
The constant rejection,
it’s more than I can take.
Lost in this maze.
Maybe one day I’ll find my way out.
portas que se abrem no escuro, silenciosamente, deixando escapar medos perigosos, assombros magníficos.
I rather like the concept of the door; it opens, then it closes, much lie the life of a human being. I also like that no door, no matter how locked or blocked in may be, is ever closed forever.
“Please make yourself at home; as always, the library is open to you.” he said, gesturing towards them. “And, if there’s nothing else, Miss Lawson, I’ll fetch Master Nathaniel.”
“Thank you, Anton.” I remarked as I stepped inside the large and comforting room. I’d only taken my seat when the doors opened once more.
“I new it wasn’t Edward in here.”
I looked up, surprised at the dulcet feminine tones. “…Arabella? Is that you?” I asked, near-incredulous.
“Emilia Ashton, as I live and breath.” she said, stepping forward to embrace me. “It’s so good to see you; what brings you to Elsmere?”
Door. Opening, closing. Blue, red, tiled stairs leading up it. Her face, my hand, a breeze, the creaking, it’s creaking, it’s closing not opening. My feet are down the tiled steps. Was it blue or red?
The idea of doors opening and closing throughout your life is an interesting one- at the moment I feel like I’m halfway through one, and I’m not sure if it’s pushing me out into the next room or whether I have the option to go back into the previous, known room. I can see it with other people too- they are all experiencing change, going through their own doors and rooms, and it’s difficult, because with some people, I don’t even know if we’ll go through the door together.
Doors hold the meaning to life. Sure, they allow a person to pass from one room to the next, but they mean way more. Doors are a new beginning. When one door opens, another door will have to close. You can’t be on both sides of a door.
Doors. They hold the meaning to a lot of things. Sure, they help us get to one place to the next by separating two different places. But, doors hold more significance. They represent a new beginning. If a door closes then that time is up and a new time is about to begin.
Doors. They hold the meaning to a lot of things. Sure, they help us get to one place to the next by separating two different places. But, doors hold more significance. They represent a new beginning. If a door closes then that time is up and a new time is about to begin.
The best way forward is through the open door. Why try to blast your way through a wall when a door stands open? Obstacles aren’t always meant to be a challenge set before us to provide a lesson.
He walked into the building after her and there were ten different doors,… Which did she go into? He had to find her.
Doors can lead to many places. They can lead to happiness, and they can lead to unbearable sadness. They are real, and they can transcend reality. A metaphorical door is a chance at fate, and I find that many men and women are willing to take the risk to open a door.
Doors mark the point along our journey were rites of passage are made. Our past will always be part of us but we can certainly close the door on the parts of our lives which do not ever have to be re-visited. Each and every day we have the privilege of stepping into brand new experiences and opportunities!
The time to hesitate is through.
The government’s civil rights programs has openned many doors for many people.
I tapped on the red brick wall three times. The bricks moved and I couldn’t believe what I saw. There stood thousands of doors, glittering ones, different coloured ones, old ones, new ones and ones that didn’t have handles or doorknobs.
I hadn’t seen Della in eight years. We used to listen to The Doors in the cafeteria on our lunch break during high school. “We’ve got the house and we’ve been together three years, but nobody understands why we’re not married or have children. I guess we’re behind everyone else,” she joked.
“I’m still single,” I pointed out. The one left since graduation.
would there be doors to go into dreams like i had last night about the fish with large mouths hunting for coins without prepositions we tie to them in order to make sense or wealth that would d be my first door if i were to choose to open to the other side of an impossible
I thought about the choice that lay in front of me. How can I describe it?
Two doors. Identical. Both made of some kind of hard wood, plain brass door knob, and nothing exceptional surrounding them. Just two plain doors in a plain room. It was funny though. I knew that whichever I chose would influence my life greatly. Any choice does, really.
Doors, doors, so many doors. One closes and another opens, so many places to go, opportunities to take, people to meet. Monsters Inc. also comes to mind. Trap doors, fairy doors, so many doors.
Doors open when you aren’t looking. Down long, narrow hallways, or in wide open rooms. There are always new doors opening. All you have to do is step through.
Doors will be shut, closed,and slammed. But sometimes the will be opened.
God is supposed to open doors for people, and show them love and compassion and forgiveness. If God really is what the Westboro Baptist Church claims He is, I’d rather die than live on His earth.
The doors of the castle were made of solid mahogany, with intricate inlays of ivory depicting scenes of knights on parade. The handles bore the resemblance of golden lions, long since absent from the lands.
never really opening for me. seems i always need to push my way through. some doors are so lovely while others covee the hovel replicated as life. how I long to find the door that opens into my passage ways,. hear the knock that brings the silent repose that always means someone is the always there.
The doors wouldn’t open, they were closed, as my life. it was time to say goodbye, but there was something holding me back, the posibility of a future with him. I can’t die, not here not now. I’ll live.
Doors. They can be just the plain things around your house that leads to other rooms. But they can also be a symbol, a metaphor. For a new beginning. Like the saying, “When one door closes, another opens”. Doors are the openings to new things, even if it’s just a new place. And actual physical doors are very convenient for keeping other people, or sound, or light, partially out.
Can’t stand the way you shut the door. I feel your hand on the handle for a little too long. You don’t want me coming in. I get it.