Quotes About Gate

Love is the key to felicity, nor is there a heaven to any who love not. We enter Paradise through its gates only.

The Way, the Taoist path of life, is represented by (or exists on) the border between the twin serpents. The Way is the path of proper Being. It's the same Way as that referred to by Christ in John 14:6: I am the way, and the truth and the life. The same idea is expressed in Matthew 7:14: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,Love and desire and hate:I think they have no portion in us afterWe pass the gate.They are not long, the days of wine and roses;Out of a misty dreamOur path emerges for a while, then closesWithin a dream.

The writer is neither saint nor tzaddik nor prophet standing at the gate; he's just another sinner who has a somewhat sharper awareness and uses slightly more precise language to describe the inconceivable reality of our world.

May the finger of Fate point the crimson way And guide her to happiness soon May it open the gate to a perfect day That ends with a honeymoon

That gate— that place of praise in the midst of conflict— is where His presence rests, where the King Himself dwells. The gate is formed when we move above human explanation and into a place of trust.

We passed by the large chambers and, on the way back, I saw a big curtain at the entrance to the large chambers, a curtain used to cover the Ark containing the Torah Scrolls with the Shield of David on it, and on the curtain there was the inscription: "This is the gate of the Lord, through which the righteous shall enter.

Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.

When Randolph Carter was thirty he lost the key of the gate of dreams.

It takes a man of genius to travel in his own country, in his native village; to make any progress between his door and his gate.

Trust in dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

The idea that the Gate is dangerous and could destroy those who try to enter it is familiar to anyone who has seen the Magic Flute by Mozart or the many mandalas of India and Tibet that show fierce guardians at the gates. Even in Biblical mythology, there is an angel with a fiery sword at the Gate to Paradise.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter. Love and desire and hate; I think they have no portion in us after We pass the gate.

I won't tell you how I managed to break in, since I don't want the authorities figuring out, but let's just say that if you're going to make a gate, make sure it reaches all the way to the ground.

The gate was made out of blocks of stone bigger across than I am tall. Something else supposedly built by the old gods, it was topped by a solid stone lintel with two carved lions that were supposed to roar if an enemy of the king passed beneath them. At least they were said to be lions. The stone had been weathered by the centuries, and only indistinct monster figures remained, facing each other over a short pillar. They remained silent as we passed under.

Kingsley smiled his Cheshire smile. And without a word, he called up the white darkness—the subvertio—a spell that unlocked what could not be unlocked, that destroyed what could not be destroyed. There was a rumbling, a shaking, like the strongest earthquake, and the iron gate crumbled, and the path began to melt. the demon shrieked, but Kingsley just looked at Mimi the entire time. Azrael...

spoiler> Azrael... In a flash, they disappeared. The path, the gate, the demon, and the Silver Blood. Kingsley was gone. Trapped in Hell for eternity. Mimi collapsed to the ground, as if her heart had imploded in her chest.

Mas então ouvimos o rugido de batalha, de homens gritando do outro lado do portão da cidade, e vimos nossos francos derrotados correrem da frente da muralha para se juntar

One immutable law of travel is that one's arrival or departure gate is always at the extreme outer limit of the terminal, especially if your bag is heavy or your shoes have just begun to pinch.

Fear is what keeps the walls up, so open the gate and let what you want, in when you want

Jesus Christ said the gate that leads to destruction is wide and the way is broad, but the gate which leads to life is straight and the way narrow.

outside the garage, closed the gate, and was just about to enter through the side door when I was met by Amanda and Bob. They'd heard the gate

Myron strolled, feigning interest. He stopped at a crystal statue with a marble base. Something modern or cubist or what-have-you. Symmetrical Bowel Movement maybe. Myron put his hand on it. Substantial. He looked out the one-way glass. Too low for much of a view beyond the hedges lining the front gate. Hmm. The

The plane slowed as it approached the gate. The pilot asked everybody to stay in their seats with their belts fastened. Almost everybody ignored that request. You could hear the belts clack open. Why? What did people gain from that extra second? Was it that we just liked to defy rules? He