Quotes About Threshold

I don't know the reason, but the reminder of what life is comes so timely at the moment of taking leave of it and on the threshold of its return.

Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will! He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

The shimmering, ever-shifting borderline, like all boundaries beckons and asks to be crossed.

I opened the door and blinked out into the bright hall. I had the impression it wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.

Doors are going to open-doors you can't even imagine exist.

There must be a few times in life when you stand at a precipice of a decision. When you know there will forever be a Before and an After.

Great wits are near to madness, closely allied and thin partitions do their bounds divide.

In Shubert Alley that night, I had unwittingly reached the threshold of an entire landscape of alleys that would lead to a world of theaters, each a house packed with strangers both generous and mean, shabby and grand. It was to be a life full of the transitory moments, double-edged with ecstasy and loss, that I had already come to think of as the theater.

Aber dann kommt mir nicht mehr über die Schwelle, habt Ihr das verstanden, Ihr vor Selbstmitleid triefender Kadaver von einem Hanswurst!

He stands in the kitchen doorway, a black figure surrounded by the yellow light background, the small details of his face unseen from the darkness of the living room. His left shoulder leans slightly against the threshold, a pistol suspended from the left hand, dangling in the yellow space between the hip and the dark.

The first power that meets us at the threshold of the soul's domain is the power of imag­ination.

A storm is not an object like a box or a tree. Even to the more scientifically-minded, storms are more notion than numbers. When does a drizzle become a downpour, and when does a downpour become a storm? There's no firm line. It's about how you feel.

At what point does the normal suddenly become the abnormal? he

A young student reflecting on his own experience wrote recently: When loneliness is haunting me with its possibility of being a threshold instead of a dead end, a new creation instead of a grave, a meeting place instead of an abyss, then time loses its desperate clutch on me. Then I no longer have to live in a frenzy of activity, overwhelmed and afraid for the missed opportunity.

The house is still but a sort of porch at the entrance of a burrow.

As I understand it, the Celts venerated all sorts of plexus-type things: the seashore, dawn, dusk, the edge of the forest - anything that was neither here nor there, so to speak.

The mediation of a woman is capable of imposing on hatred certain qualities characteristic of affection, for example curiosity, carnal interest, the urge to cross the threshold of intimacy.

The tree of possibilities: life as it reveals itself to a man arriving, astonished, at the threshold of his adult life: an abundant treetop canopy filled with bees singing. And he thinks he understands why she never showed him the letters: she wanted to hear the murmur of the tree by herself, without him, because he, Jean-Marc, represented the abolition of all possibilities, he was the reduction, (even though it was a happy reduction) of her life to a single possibility.

Once we lose our fear of being tiny, we find ourselves on the threshold of a vast and awesome Universe which dwarfs -- in time, in space, and in potential -- the tidy anthropocentric proscenium of our ancestors.

This was the threshold to the place of the dead.

This was the time, when night wasn't quite over but day hadn't quite begun, when thoughts stood out bright and clear and without disguise.

Might we not be on the threshold of an ecological reformation?

again. Before closing the door I waited

She realized what a gate was: it was an indication that you had left one pace and were entering another.