All we have to do to see is open our eyes and look. As we teach what we learn, I am in essence talking to myself.
The world, like a great iris of an even more gigantic eye, which has also just opened and stretched out to encompass everything, stared back at him.
Oh, how I longed to burst through the doors and go walking through the streets, with my hands open, like weapons!
One of the most valuable things we can learn from open sexual lifestyles is that our programming is changeable.
Don't try to steer the boat. Don't open shop for yourself. Listen. Keep silent. You are not God's mouthpiece. Try to be an ear, And if you do speak, ask for explanations.
…the work of the (Muslim Sufi) dervish community was to open the heart, explore the mystery of union, to fiercely search for and try to say the truth, and to celebrate the glory and difficulty in being in human incarnation.
Your days are numbered. Use them to throw open the windows of your soul to the sun. If you do not, the sun will soon set, and you with it.
The power to concentrate was the most important thing. Living without this power would be like opening one’s eyes without seeing anything.
Footfalls echo in the memory down the passage we did not take towards the door we never opened into the rose garden. My words echo thus, in your mind
The whole world is like an opened candy jar, and we're plunging in for the best treats
That paper-- it sits there, open at the employment section. It sits there like a war, and each small advertisement is another trench for a person to dive into. To hope and fight in.
Opening her mouth to take a bite seemed forward. Chewing? Obscene. Mutual mastication was out of the question.
He'd lived so long in anticipation of his own death that to contemplate his future was like standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into a vertiginous rush of open sky.
There had been a subtle realignment of the spheres. The world was somehow a place I could endure again. If life was a grey corridor lined with doors, it was now within my power to open some of them.
The world is falling down around our ears, and all these people care for is talking about fucking to women in short skirts and men with their shirts hanging open
What do you think the Order is going to do?" he asks. "Help us open a door to Hell, if we're lucky," I reply. Lucky. Ha ha. The irony.
Sometimes people did this, closed their eyes for a few seconds and imagined it gave them insights into what it was like to be her. Only, at the end, they could still open their eyes and see.
Do you ever find yourself climbing into an open grave during a bombing raid and wish you'd just stayed in bed?
The man who begins to go to bed forty minutes before he opens his bedroom door is bored; that is to say, he is not living.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
Betsy returned to her chair, took off her coat and hat, opened her book and forgot the world again.
