Gates Quotes - Page 12

• I remember a story of a girl in Paradise who ate an apple once. Some wise Sapient gave it to her. Because of it she saw things differently. What had seemed gold coins were dead leaves. Rich clothes were rags of cobweb. And she saw there was a wall around the world, with a locked gate.

  Catherine Fisher

  Girl, Wise, Wall

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• I find the treatment of royalty distinctly peculiar. The royal family lives in palaces heavily screened from prying eyes by fences, grounds, gates, guards, all designed to ensure the family absolute privacy. And every newspaper in London carried headlines announcing PRINCESS ANNE HAS OVARIAN CYST REMOVED. I mean you're a young girl reared in heavily guarded seclusion and every beer drinker in every pub knows the precise state of your ovaries.

  Helene Hanff

  Girl, Princess, Eye

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• Lord Jesus,' Christy whispered, 'I want You to hold the key. I want You to decide what should happen in my heart's garden. I want You to let in or send out anything or anybody You want. Especially with guys. I don't want to ever unlock that gate again. I want you to open it only when the right man comes along. Take the key, Lord. Take all my keys. I'll wait for you.

  Robin Jones Gunn

  Jesus, Heart, Men

  Robin Jones Gunn (2009). “Christy Miller Collection”, p.465, Multnomah

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• Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night.

  William Shakespeare

  Writing, Night, House

  'Twelfth Night' (1601) act 1, sc. 5, l. [289]

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• I dream that I have found us both again, With spring so many strangers' lives away, And we, so free, Out walking by the sea, With someone else's paper words to say.... They took us at the gates of green return, Too lost by then to stop, and ask them why- Do children meet again? Does any trace remain, Along the superhighways of July?

  Thomas Pynchon

  Dream, Children, Spring

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• A loud booming noise interrupted us, and we saw a flash of light off to my right. People near the other garages screamed. "There, you see?" asked Abe, quite pleased with himself. "A new gate. Perfect timing.

  Richelle Mead

  Light, People, Perfect

  Richelle Mead (2010). “Last Sacrifice: A Vampire Academy Novel”, p.34, Penguin

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• Wenna followed us out. "You've done him some good, Clary, I have to say! He's got color in his cheeks, and he's stepping along as if he was sixty again," she told Goodwin as she walked us to the gate. "You'll come back?" "Of course," Goodwin said. "But thank Cooper for his improved spirits. Once he'd insulted her a few times, he was in the pink.

  Tamora Pierce

  Color, Done, Spirit

  Tamora Pierce (2009). “Bloodhound: The Legend of Beka Cooper #2”, p.218, Random House Books for Young Readers

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• Science fiction is a dialogue, a tennis match, in which the Idea is volleyed from one side of the net to the other. Ridiculous to say that someone 'stole' an idea: no, no, a thousand times no. The point is the volley, and how it's carried, and what statement is made by the answering 'statement.' In other words — if Burroughs initiates a time-gate and says it works randomly, and then Norton has time gates confounded with the Perilous Seat, the Siege Perilous of the Round Table, and locates it in a bar on a rainy night — do you see both the humor and the volley in the tennis match?

  C. J. Cherryh

  Night, Ideas, Tennis

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• Oh you, straying heart, just come! Oh you, aching liver, just come! If the path to the gate is closed, Take the way by the wall, but come!

  Rumi

  Wall, Heart, Way

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• Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.

  Wilfred Owen

  Eye, Secret, Way

  Wilfred Owen (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Wilfred Owen (Illustrated)”, p.646, Delphi Classics

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• who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape? The words compelle intrare, compel them to come in, have been so abused by wicked men that we shudder at them; but, properly understood, they plumb the depth of the Divine mercy. The hardness of God is kinder than the softness of man, and His compulsion is our liberation.

  C. S. Lewis

  Struggle, Eye, Men

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• Now, I'm as appreciative as the next obsessive-compulsive recovering-academic of the vast riches of material becoming available online, thanks to all those Google scanners crouched in the basements of libraries around the world, madly feeding books through their machines. I download obscure tomes onto my iPad and give thanks to the dual gods Gates and Jobs, singing hymns to all the lesser pantheon of geniuses. But there's nothing like a book.

  Laurie R. King

  Jobs, Book, Hymns

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• to know how to read is to light a lamp in the mind, to release the soul from prison, to open a gate to the universe." from Pavilion of Women page 292

  Pearl S. Buck

  Light, Soul, Mind

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• They hammered on the outer gate and called, but there was at first no answer; and then to their surprise someone blew a horn, and the lights in the windows went out. A voice shouted in the dark: 'Who's that? Be off! You can't come in. Can't you read the notice: No admittance between sundown and sunrise?' 'Of course we can't read the notice in the dark,' Sam shouted back. 'And if hobbits of the Shire are to be kept out in the wet on a night like this, I'll tear down your notice when I find it.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Dark, Night, Light

  J. R. R. Tolkien (1980). “The Lord of the Rings: The return of the King”

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• This self now as I leant over the gate looking down over fields rolling in waves of colour beneath me made no answer. He threw up no opposition. He attempted no phrase. His fist did not form. I waited. I listened. Nothing came, nothing. I cried then with a sudden conviction of complete desertion. Now there is nothing. No fin breaks the waste of this immeasurable sea. Life has destroyed me. No echo comes when I speak, no varied words. This is more truly death than the death of friends, than the death of youth.

  Virginia Woolf

  Echoes, Self, Sea

  Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1446, Delphi Classics

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• I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turn'd to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

  William Blake

  Sweet, Flower, Garden

  William Blake (2008). “The Complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake”, p.26, Univ of California Press

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• But why, she thought wryly, did a man seem more attractive as he became less available? How humbling to think one had so much in common with a cow stretching its neck through a gate for better grass.

  Mary Jo Putney

  Men, Thinking, Cows

  Mary Jo Putney (2000). “The Bargain”

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• I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers, until the world is renewed. Since I leave now all gold and silver, and go where it is of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you, and I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate. . . If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Song, Cheer, Father

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Hobbit”, p.152, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Self-actualization is what educated existence is all about. For members of the educated class, life is one long graduate school. When they die, God meets them at the gates of heaven, totes up how many fields of self-expression they have mastered, and then hands them a divine diploma and lets them in.

  David Brooks

  School, Self, Expression

  David Brooks (2011). “The Paradise Suite: Bobos in Paradise and On Paradise Drive”, p.18, Simon and Schuster

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• As soon as she'd met him at the arrivals gate on his return from Thailand, lithe and brown and shaven-headed, she knew that there was no chance of a relationship between them. Too much had happened to him, too little had happened to her.

  David Nicholls

  Thailand, Littles, Too Much

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• But you have to understand, mental illness is like cholesterol. There is is good kind and the bad. Without the good kind- less flavor to life. Van Gogh, Beethoven, Edgar Allen Poe, Sylvia Plath, Pink Floyd (the early Piper at the Gates of Dawn line up), scientific breakthroughs, spiritual revolution, utopian visions, zany nationalism that kills millions- wait, that’s the bad kind. Tim Dorsey (Hurricane Punch)

  Tim Dorsey

  Spiritual, Waiting, Vision

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• If there are still honest-smart men and women within those old and noble traditions, they should think carefully, observe and diagnose the illness. They should face the contradiction. Discuss the conflation. And then do as Warren Buffett and Bill Gates and many others have done. Choose the miracle of creative competition over an idolatry of cash. They should stand up.

  David Brin

  Smart, Men, Thinking

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• Surely we cannot take an open question like the supernatural and shut it with a bang, turning the key of the madhouse on all the mystics of history. You cannot take the region of the unknown and calmly say that, though you know nothing about it, you know all the gates are locked. We do not know enough about the unknown to know that it is unknowable.

  Gilbert K. Chesterton

  Keys, Bangs, Enough

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• If you throw me out of this house, I shall sleep on the path outside. If you return to the Continent without me, I shall follow you. I will build a willow hut at your gate; I will sleep under your window; I will be waiting for you at your own front door.

  Eloisa James

  Sleep, Doors, House

  Eloisa James (2011). “When Beauty Tamed The Beast: Number 2 in series”, p.157, Hachette UK

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• There was the gate next, which she(Liesel)clung to. A gang of tears trudged from her eyes as she held on and refused to go inside. People started to gather on the street, until Rosa Hubermann swore at them, after which they reversed back whence they came. ~A TRANSLATION OF ROSA HUBERMANN’S ANNOUNCEMENT~ ‘What are you arseholes looking at?

  Markus Zusak

  Eye, People, Tears

  Markus Zusak (2014). “Markus Zusak: The Book Thief & I Am the Messenger”, p.35, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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