Quotes About Rooms

We are all locked in rooms in different ways, and part of growing up is finding different kinds of keys, and meeting the people who will help free you.

We need a home in the psychological sense as much as we need one in the physical: to compensate for a vulnerability. We need a refuge to shore up our states of mind, because so much of the world is opposed to our allegiances. We need our rooms to align us to desirable versions of ourselves and to keep alive the important, evanescent sides of us.

Churchill was so overweight that in 1942 he had to have a new desk installed in his Cabinet war rooms beneath London's Whitehall because he could not fit behind the previous one.

She wonders how he will get out of the easy chair in a way that's remotely graceful. He'll stand to top up her wine, then perhaps hold her glass while he leans over to kiss her again. Novelists have this same problem, she thinks, Dickens and Austen and everyone since: how to get people in and out of rooms, up and out of chairs.

I don't know much about auctions. I sometimes go to previews and see art sardined into ugly rooms. I've gawked at the gaudy prices, and gaped at well-clad crowds of happy white people conspicuously spending hundreds of millions of dollars.

They could play an endless game of hide-and -seek in so many rooms and up and down the halls that intersected and turned into dead-end porches and rooms full of wax begonias and elephant's- ears, or rooms full of trunks. She remembered the nights--the moon vine, the everblooming Cape jessamines, the verbena smelling under running feet, the lateness of dancers.

It was never dark enough, the enormous sky flashing with August light rushing into the emptiest rooms, the loneliest windows. The month of falling stars.

It wrote me "helpful" comments about each of the rooms I was going through, like, "This is the Room of Eternal Death. It's like the Room of Normal Death, but somewhat more repetitive." That sort of thing.

Be fun! I don't like homes or rooms that don't have a sense of humor or have some sense of whimsy or a personality. Your home should reflect who you are, and what you love. I would never have something in my home because it's the thing to have. I have to love it and it needs some connection to me.

Sisters are always drying their hair. Locked into rooms, alone, they pose at the mirror, shoulders bare, trying this way and that their hair, or fly importunate down the stair to answer the telephone.

The silence had that slack quality that speaks only of the indifference of uninhabited rooms, and his footsteps sounded alien and overloud as he made his way down the hall.

The silence had that slack quality that speaks only of the indifference of uninhabited rooms,

Please do not bring female visitors of the opposite sex into rooms.

Four rooms on the top floor were reserved for the Rockefeller family, but Senior never took advantage of this privilege, despite Gates's constant urging:

the massive doors found in hospital rooms. It seemed

Better rooms better furniture, better objects d'art can only be created for a society interested in living - not existing.

Everything is possible in love. In the heart of each of us there can be many rooms, and sometimes there are.

Isolation offered its own form of companionship: the reliable silence of her rooms, the steadfast tranquility of the evenings. The promise that she would find things where she put them, that there would be no interruption, no surprise. It greeted her at the end of each day and lay still with her at night.

The first time I walked through the spacious house, I didn't see possibility or a new start. I saw a big, empty space. These rooms looked like all I did not have, every room a challenge, rather than an opportunity.

Lewis lived in as good a setting as any man for the life of vigilant aestheticism...His rooms were on the first floor of New Buildings 3, and ran the width of the building, so that the sitting-room looked out on Magdalen Grove, the other half of the suite commanding the Cloister, and, in the background, the incomparable Tower.

How intimately I experience in my heart just what he must have felt in all of those unknown rooms, some of them poor, perhaps, and some splendid, but all opposing him with the cold fearful indifference of other people's belongings, against which he has to defend himself as best he can with his poor lonely trunk and his case of books.

And suddenly the idea comes into your head that perhaps now, at this very moment while you are passing by, in one of the rooms behind those drab shutters, at a worm-eaten desk, among bundles of papers tied up with red or green tape, with scratchy old-fashioned penstrokes, your fate is being inscribed

The old guy on the karaoke microphone was belting out the Sixties classic 'King of the Road'. 'Trailers for sale or rent, Rooms to let . . . fifty cents . . . I'm a man of means by no means . . . King of the road . . .

At the gray tea hour there were always rooms that throbbed incessantly with this low, sweet fever, while fresh faces drifted here and there like rose petals blown by the sad horns around the floor.