Quotes About Windows

The main floor was a huge open room with a polished stone floor, wooden furniture, a large fireplace, and windows.

Hmm. Kelly finished off his Coke. That confirmed his suspicion about Oreza's little visit. So things were getting complicated now, but they'd been pretty complicated the week before, too. He headed off to the bedroom, almost there when there came a knock at the door. That startled him rather badly, but he had to answer it. He'd opened windows to air the apartment out, and it was plain that someone was here. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

From the windows, through the fur of snow, the landscape became more melancholy when the sun successfully brightened the quiet trees, unable to speak without their leaves.

People say that eyes are windows to the soul.

Our dreams are like windows that allow us to look in, or to listen in, to that psychological process which is continually going on in our unconscious.

The light outside the windows was fading by the time the session drew to a close. Sansa felt limp with exhaustion as she made her way down from the gallery. She wondered how badly Joffrey had cut himself. They say the Iron Throne can be perilous cruel to those who were not meant to sit it.

They needed to take action, make haste, embalm the dead town, dress the wounds of the sculptures, heal the sick windows, give succour to the ageing walls.

Do you know what we call windows in Belgrade?' she asked. All our windows are broken and crisscrossed with scotch tape. 'Windows 99.

The eyes are the windows of the soul.

She too was gazing at the glimmering winows across the city.

The mountains on the horizon look like someone took a pocketknife and sliced neat curves out of the star-thick sky, leaving empty blackness. Here and there, spread out, are the yellow rectangles of windows, tiny and valiant.

In the hazy afternoon light through the windows he looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar and streaks of golden hair falling into his eyes, like some Regency buck after a long night's dancing.

children are looking down at him through their bedroom windows, all warm and fuzzy in their Li'l Crips and Ninja Raft Warrior pajamas, which can either be flameproof or noncarcinogenic but not both at the same time.

There were two display windows, one on each side of the door, and in the windows were…well, books. What this street really needed was a bar.

Nei mah-heepicut! " Releasing her, he struck her lightly on the arm. Wheeling his horse, he glanced toward the windows of the house and thumped his chest with a broad fist. "I claim her!

I watch the rain stream down the windows in the dark. It gives me a feeling that the whole world is taking a moment to be sad.

I was starting to grasp the mysteries of the city in which we had been moving for many hours now. It was as if I sensed its hidden spaces, its secret lives, the windows where people's silhouettes passed for a moment and disappeared forever. I glimpsed, in the broken lines of those streets, the hidden code of my present life and above all my future one.

...his gaze wandered from the windows to the stars, as if he would have read in them something that was hidden from him. Many of us would if we could; but none of us so much as know our letters in the stars yet, — or seem likely to do it in this state of existence, — a few languages can be read until their alphabets are mastered.

It's a huge disservice to classify all minds as either closed or open. I find the best minds are closed by openable windows.

I'm a working man in my prime cleaning windows.

Those who make antitheses by forcing the sense are like men who make false windows for the sake of symmetry. Their rule is not to speak justly, but to make accurate figures.

Inside the wall were the large homes of the wealthy, with terraces, orchards, and vineyards. Pointed arches were everywhere—arched doorways, arched windows, arched garden gates.

Moonlight. The silvery sorcery of moonlight slipped through the windows. Roses. The fragile fragrance of roses floated on the air. Music. The muted magic of Beethoven drifted in from the apartment below.

You melt and swell at that moment. For that moment, nothing matters. Look up at the stars and you're gone. Not your luggage. Nothing matters. Not your bad breath. The windows are dark outside and the horns are blaring around you. The headlights are flashing high and low and high in your face, and you will never have to go to work again.