Quotes About Threshold

I walked up the stairs and hesitated at the open door.

queasiness. Much of modern art is devoted to lowering the threshold of what is terrible. By getting us used to what, formerly, we could not bear to see or hear, because it was too shocking, painful, or embarrassing, art changes morals—that body of psychic custom and public sanctions that draws a vague boundary between what is emotionally and spontaneously intolerable and what is not.

In all these places I have stood in Doorways and looked ahead.

ciencia está aún empezando a poner el pie en el umbral de la mente humana

A noxious stimulus, such as an angry person, crowds, noise, or bright light, can agitate us because our threshold for sensory overload is extremely low.

the poet speaks not only 'on the threshold of being', as Gaston Bachelard notes,43 but also on the threshold of language. Equally, the task of art and architecture in general is to reconstruct the experience of an undifferentiated interior world, in which we are not mere spectators, but to which we inseparably belong.

Most people would have probably lost count around seven. This was, Harry knew from his extensive reading on logic and arithmetic, the largest number that most people could visually appreciate. Put seven dots on a page, and most people can take a quick glance and declare, "Seven." Switch to eight, and the majority of humanity was lost.

I think there are influences that you open the door to, and influences that come under the door.

So come sei con me. Di là da quella soglia, come sei?

Il vient d'avoir trente ans: l'âge bâtard où l'on est trop vieux pour être jeune, et trop jeune pour être vieux.

Death of the righteous . . . is not to be feared or shunned. It is the shadowed threshold to the palace of God.

Terror in the house does roar, But Pity stands before the door.

An oppressive odor met us when we crossed the threshold, an odor I had met many times in rain-rotted gray houses where there are coal-oil lamps, water dippers, and unbleached domestic sheets. It always made me afraid, expectant, watchful.

Kafka, in everybody's life there's a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can't go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That's how we survive.

We're on the border of this world, speaking a common language. That's all.

That is the strangeness of language: it crosses the boundaries of the body, is at once inside and outside, and it sometimes happens that we don't notice the threshold has been crossed.

The truth, it seems, is not just what you find when you open a door: it is itself a door, which the poet is always on the verge of going through.

When she first saw him, standing at the threshold of the reception room, contemplating departure before he had even arrived, she thought he had an American face, an American body. Buick shoulders, bulldozer jaw. Only if you considered his eyes would you be forced to conclude, and she did conclude, that he was beautiful.

A preliminary hearing is a routine step on the way to a trial. It is one hundred percent the prosecution's show. The state is charged with presenting its case to the court and the judge then rules on whether there is sufficient evidence to take it forward to a jury trial. This isn't the reasonable doubt threshold. Not even close. The judge only has to decide if a preponderance of evidence supports the charges. If so, then the next stop is a full-blown trial.

Too much change is as destructive as too little. Only at the edge of chaos can complex systems flourish.

The vestibule door opens onto a June morning so fine and scrubbed Classira pauses at the threshold as she would at the edge of a pool, watching the turquoise water lapping at the tiles, the liquid nets of sun wavering in the blue depths. As if standing at the edge of a pool she delays for a moment the plunge, the quick membrane of chill, the plain shock of immersion.

when each infected person infected more than three others, or when the society's rate of compliance fell below 30 percent.

I was about to enter a borderless terrain between adolescence and adulthood

There is a critical threshold where the natural biosphere stops buffering us from the effects of our emissions and actually starts to amplify them.