Lahey Portal Quotes

He had the innate sense that something bad was just around the bend, but a hope that something incredible was waiting in the distance.
It had to be.
His burning love for her cursed through him until he felt so full he didn't know whether he would fit through the portal. ~ Lauren Kate

The narrow portal opens into a wide corridor that looks like a giant jaw full of thin, sharp teeth. The rocks growing down from the top almost touch the growths from the bottom. Galen hopes that if humans ever do infiltrate this site, they'll feel like a meal. ~ Anna Banks

I've always said that L.A. is the city of America's future. It is to the world what London was in the 19th century and New York in the 20th because of the growth of the Pacific Rim countries. We're the portal to the emerging world. ~ Antonio Villaraigosa

The only modern narrative that handles the conundrum semi-successfully is Richard Kelly's Donnie Darko, where schizophrenic heartthrob Jake Gyllenhaal uses a portal to move back in time twelve days, thereby allowing himself to die in an accident he had previously avoided. By removing himself from the equation, he never meets his new girlfriend, which keeps her from dying in a car accident that was his fault. ~ Chuck Klosterman

I barely registered moving into the long gallery, one hand absentmindedly wrapping around my throat as I looked up at the paintings.

So many, so different, yet all arranged to flow together seamlessly... Such different views and snippets and angles of the world. Pastorals, portraits, still lifes . . . each a story and an experience, each a voice shouting or whispering or singing about what that moment, that feeling, had been like, each a cry into the void of time that they had been here, had existed. Some had been painted through eyes like mine, artists who saw in colors and shapes I understood. Some showcased colors I had not considered; these had a bend to the world that told me a different set of eyes had painted them. A portal into the mind of a creature so unlike me, and yet . . . and yet I looked at its work and understood, and felt, and cared. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Did she go postal?" Russell grins at him, "You know, for pullin' her portal on the island and sendin' her to your safe house before the fight?"
"Define postal?" Zephyr counters, his brows pulling together further.
"Insanely angry," Russell says.
"Yes," Zephyr nods his head adamantly, pointing at him. "She has not called me 'sweetie' since."
"Oooo," Russell says, ducking his head and wrinkling his nose. "Doghouse. ~ Amy A. Bartol

The grandest and simplest things contain worlds within worlds. Seeing them is a matter of the right point of view, and your painter's eye is the special portal to such sights. ~ Richard Schmid

When I was in theater I was forever trying to inhabit a space which puts yourself under the microscope as an actor and your personality and your take on life, but actually through another portal of a character. ~ Andy Serkis

Even the trip throught the Portal had not disarranged Magnus's hair spikes. He tugged on one proudly. "Check it out", he said to Isabelle.
"Magic?"
"Hair gel. $3.99 at Ricky's. ~ Cassandra Clare

All pre-Abrahamic cultures understood the tremendous importance of remaining closely connected to the past if the present was to be invested with any spiritually significant meaning. They also understood that the most personally relevant and accessible portal to the empowering wisdom and goodness of the past was through their own direct ancestors, those who shared their particular bloodline and DNA. It was for this reason that all traditional cultures engaged in what is often called ancestor worship (pitri-puja). There is no pre-Abrahamic culture on Earth that did not honor its ancestors in one form or another. This is a very important spiritual practice and tradition that used to be practiced universally by families in the ancient past. The process of ancestor worship now needs to be revived in the modern world if we are to not lose our sacred connection with our own cultural-spiritual heritage. Ancestor worship must become a regular practice again. ~ Dharma Pravartaka Acharya

When in Rome, Alexander," said Magnus, "one drives a Maserati."
They had to get to Rome as fast as possible, and they couldn't use a Portal, so Magnus said he was selecting the next best option. Shinyun was reading the Red Scrolls of Magic and ignoring them both, which was fine with Alec.
"An excellent choice," said the attendant at teh luxury car rental lot. "Gotta love a classic 3500 GT Spyder."
Alec leaned into Magnus. "The car is also a spider?"
Magnus shrugged, flashing Alec an irresistibly bright smile. "No idea. I just picked it because it was Italian and red. ~ Cassandra Clare

What then, is dark fantasy? I would argue that it is a genre of fantasy whose protagonists inhabit the world of consensual mundane reality and learn otherwise, not by walking through a portal into some other world, or by being devoured or destroyed irrevocably, but by learning to live with new knowledge and sometimes with new flesh. ~ Roz Kaveney

Smartphone makers sought deeper ties with retail buyers by adding ring tones, games, Web browsers, and other applications to their phones. Carriers, however, wanted this business to themselves. If they couldn't sell applications within their "walled gardens," carriers worried they would be reduced to mere utilities or "dumb pipes" carrying data and voice traffic. Nokia learned the hard way just how ferociously carriers could defend their turf. In the late 1990s the Finnish phone maker launched Club Nokia, a Web-based portal that allowed customers to buy and download ~ Jacquie McNish

FACT: In 1991, a document was locked in the safe of the director of the CIA. The document is still there today. Its cryptic text includes references to an ancient portal and an unknown location underground. The document also contains the phrase "It's buried out there somewhere. ~ Dan Brown

The creative life! Ascension. Passing beyond oneself. Rocketing out into the blue, grasping at flying ladders, mounting, soaring, lifting the world up by the scalp, rousing the angels from their ethereal lairs, drowning in stellar depths, clinging to the tails of comets. Nietzsche had written of it ecstatically - and then swooned forward into the mirror to die in root and flower. «Stairs and contradictory stairs,» he wrote, and then suddenly there was no longer any bottom; the mind, like a splintered diamond, was pulverized by the hammer−blows of truth. There was a time when I acted as my father's keeper. I was left alone for long hours, cooped up in the little booth which we used as an office. While he was drinking with his cronies I was feeding from the bottle of creative life. My companions were the free spirits, the overlords of the soul. The young man sitting there in the mingy yellow light became completely unhinged; he lived in the crevices of great thoughts, crouched like a hermit in the barren folds of a lofty mountain range. From truth he passed to imagination and from imagination to invention. At this last portal, through which there is no return, fear beset him. To venture farther was to wander alone, to rely wholly upon oneself. The purpose of discipline is to promote freedom. But freedom leads to infinity and infinity is terrifying. Then arose the comforting thought of stopping at the brink, of setting down in words the mysteries of impulsion, compulsion, propu ~ Henry Miller

Then the Announcer would transform: into a screen through which to glimpse the past-or into a portal through which to step.
This Announcer was sticky,but she soon pulled it apart,guided it into shape. She reached inside and opened the portal.
She couldn't stay here any longer. She had a mission now: to find herself alive in another time and learn what price the Outcasts had referred to, and eventually,to trace the origin of the curse between Daniel and her.
Then to break it.
The others gasped as she manipulated the Announcer.
"When did you learn how to do that?" Daniil whispered.
Luce shook her head. Her explanation would only baffle Daniil.
"Lucinda!" The last thing she heard was his voice calling out her true name.
Strange,she'd been looking right at his stricken face but hadn't seen her lips move. Her mind was playing tricks.
"Lucinda!" he shouted once more, his voice rising in panic,just before Luce dove headfirst into the beckoning darkness. ~ Lauren Kate

Praise is the portal to the presence of God. ~ David Brazzeal

...Following the bird you lay into a deep turn in the steepening descent. It [the snow] is super soft, bottomless and amazingly light, yet supportive. It feels like something in between floating on top, and within the top of a deep-pile carpet as you link turn after turn down the open glacier. Each side of you are fellow riders, though not too close, whooping with exhilaration and flying down, down towards the valley below. The pitch gets steeper and the slope widens out, with seemingly endless space to the sides and an untracked oblivion ahead and beneath you. Each turn is delicious softness; you can almost feel every snow crystal reacting with the base of your skis. Those skis feel like extensions of your feet, and you connect with the mountain through a portal link created by the snowpack, as the spray from the turn hangs in the air behind you... ~ Steve Baldwin

Glacier blue plasma rippled and sparked across the interior of the portal. "It seems keeping secrets is what you do."

"Secrets are merely the necessary means. Survival is the end goal. Survival of ourselves, survival of species who do not deserve to be eradicated from the universe. Survival of the universe itself."

"Survival's noble and all, but what good is it without the freedom to live as you choose?"

"A question you have the luxury to ask because you survive. ~ G.S. Jennsen

We underestimate this little hole, it seems to me, we call it the arsehole and affect to despise it. But is it not rather the true portal of our being and the celebrated mouth no more than the kitchen door ~ Samuel Beckett

1. Modern thinking is a mysterious entity, it is covered in blood and is two meters tall, its smile opens your soul to you and its smile descends to the earth and opens a portal to the dimension of eternal laughter, into a world without values.
2. Death from the dust of all the dead and dust of memories. Fear is all out of the darkness of the subconscious of billions of threads of manipulation.
3. Under the ordinary eye, the eye of anger. Under the eye of anger, the eye of despondency. Under the eye of despondency, the eye of insight of enlightenment of good and light, selfless nobleness.
4. The face tears up from laughter, and there is not flesh and soul, but a continuous smile of awareness.
5. Love is a sports scoreboard, the score of the one who loves more is kept.
6. Truth is a card. An illusion. You tilt a little, you see one, and you straighten up you see another.
7. Lust is erotic poker cards, poker for stripping the truth. Here you will win only loneliness.
8. Reality is a terrible dystopia of smiling optimism, with wired senses, with laughing monsters in your head, that is, your vices.
9. Wandering around in the midst of twilight darkness, the creative person revealed to the world what was hidden in the egg that lay in this fog, essences and monsters of the subconscious crawled out of it through the force field of imagination and depravity, through the force field they arise in the mind. Some in the imagination become prettier, ~ Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal - every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open - this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal, would accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness? No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection, when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved are softened away in pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness - who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gaiety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No, there is a voice from the ~ Washington Irving

The thirteenth search engine- and without all the features of a web portal, most people thought that was pointless. ~ Sam Altman

With a wary eye, I snatched my jacket from Ayden. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."
Ayden gasped and pointed. "Oh my gosh! Mrs. Lahey, look, she's bleeding!"
The way my night had been going, I really should've seen that coming.

A & E Kirk (2014-05-26). Drop Dead Demons: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book 2 (Divinicus Nex Chronicles series) (p. 63). A&E Kirk. Kindle Edition. ~ A. Kirk

Adiyogi's legacy offers you the licence to believe in the god of your choice, or not to believe at all. And if you do not find a god to your taste, it allows you the freedom to create one. That is how the Indian subcontinent arrived at an exuberant 330 million gods and goddesses at last count! To see the divine in a tree, rock or elephant is not considered absurd because every speck of creation is seen as a portal to the ultimate reality. These ~ Sadhguru

The poetry of music composes each generation of Americans' autobiographical memories. Language and music represent two rotaries of the revolving and evolving wheels that we employ to internalize the axis of identification. Music plays a profound role in the definitive stages of most people's lives. Reminiscent of the sounds and smells that flavored our youth, musical intonations organize our personal memories into temporal time sequence. Modulation of musical memories comprises an important quotient in people's autographical memory system. If we listen to enough music, its pitch, tone, timbre, and cadence eventually seeps into our unconsciousness. The lilt of music becomes a portal through which we perceive, feel, and experience worldly inflections and how we synthesize swirling emotions. ~ Kilroy J. Oldster

Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next.

We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it. ~ Arundhati Roy

He takes two steps back. Closer to the portal.
I can't stop myself. "Ben," I call. And I'm not even embarrassed about how helpless my voice sounds.
Don't go.
"I'll come back for you." He takes another step back. "I promise."
Stay.
"Janelle Tenner," he says. "I will always fucking love you." And then he takes one more step back. Into the portal.
And the blackness swallows him whole. ~ Elizabeth Norris

Once the 'portals of the future close - in Amazonia, Siberia or the Arctic - we will find ourselves powerless to affect the outcome of this dreadful tale. ~ Mark Lynas

Work is the open sesame of every portal, the great equalizer in the world, the true philosopher's stone which transmutes all the base metal of humanity into gold. ~ William Osler

A library is the first step of a thousand journeys, portal to a thousand worlds. ~ Orson Scott Card

The flower inside the fruit that is both its parent and its child. Decadent as ancestors. The portal and that which passes. Nuclear devices activated, and the machine keeps pushing time through the cogs, like paste into strings into paste again, and only the machine keeps using time to make time to make time. And when the machine stops, time was an illusion that we created free will. ~ Ronald D. Moore

"It's time for you to tell me the truth. All of it."
My stomach winds up like a fist. "That's a lot of years to cover. Where should I start?"
"Baby steps. Your mom's history. How Jeb's involved. Does he know what you are? And that winged creature who carried me out of Wonderland's portal - what part does he play?"
"Wow, Dad. Baby steps?"
"Yep."
"Baby brontosaurus, maybe," I tease. ~ A.G. Howard

Heights of the spirit can only be climbed by passing through the portals of humility. ~ Rudolf Steiner