Lock Pickers Quotes

We are a dangerous breed, you and I. We are lock pickers. We are dangerous to others and ourselves. It is always a great risk to open a door if you don't know what's behind it. ~ Zia Haider Rahman

Change always follows the same pattern. If you come up with something new they try and put you off.If that doesn't work they call you stark raving bonkers.If that doesn't work they lock you up like the suffragettes.Then, after a pause, the change happensand you can't find anyone that doesn't claim to have been fighting for it with you. ~ Tony Benn

In the Queen's prayerbook, along with the
blood-stain, was also a lock of hair and a crumb of pastry; Orlando now
added to these keepsakes a flake of tobacco, and so, reading and smoking,
was moved by the humane jumble of them all
the hair, the pastry, the
blood-stain, the tobacco
to such a mood of contemplation as gave her a
reverent air suitable in the circumstances, though she had, it is said,
no traffic with the usual God. ~ Virginia Woolf

Choosing to lock yourself up in a life that doesn't suit you is its own sort of death, wouldn't you say? ~ Heather Fawcett

The media love to cover black people on the front page. After all, when you live in a society that will lock up about 30 percent of all black men at some time in their lives and send more of them to prison than to college, chances are a fair number of those black faces will end up in the newspaper. ~ Michael Moore

Names and knowledge change, the way the turning
world brings color or deep shadows, without a sound
even as soft as the twist of a key in a lock. ~ Jeannine Atkins

The Valley Weeps

Weep softly o mother,
the walls have ears you know...
The streets are awash o mother!
I cannot go searching for him any more.

The streets are awash o mother
with blood and tears, pellets and screams.
that silently remain locked in the air,
while they lock us souless inside.

The guns are out o mother,
while our boys go armed with stones,
I cannot go looking for him o mother,
I have no courage to face what i will find.

They fill the air o mother,
The fragrance of plastic flowers
I will place them beside your grave
if i ever do survive,
flowers that have no soul.
and would never fade with time,

The sun shines glorious o mother
The water sparkles so fine
The buds are closed in terror
and birds have gone silent with fear
There is poison in our heaven o mother
I dread for what more is in store.

They came for him o mother,
yesterday as you slept inside,
He went marching o mother
with all the others beside.
I never told you o mother,
I do not know if he would ever return.
The streets are awash o mother!
I cannot go searching for him any more.

Weep softly o mother,
the walls have ears you know...
If your old blind eyes can see,
You will want to see again no more.

Our men have lost their spirit
Our women have lost their smile,
Our ~ Srividya Srinivasan

But after all the years, her husband and children have come to accept that, once every few weeks, their usually warmhearted and approachable Camisha will get into her Honda Accord at the beginning of a seemingly random day, and disppear until well after supper, when she will return home and go directly to bed. Her family has learned never top ask her where she had been on such a day, because the most she will ever say is, "Out. I just went out for a bit."

Also, they learned long ago never to express irritation or anger of any kind against Camisha, because when they do, her reaction is to become mute and exit to the garden, where for several hours she will sit cross-legged on a favourite flat stone, her back to the house. Slender, straight-backed, and unmoving, at these times she resembles nothing so much as an elegant ebony carving, exquisite but not quite alive. Watching her is almost unberable, and so is the guilt. Or if the weather is not suitable for the garden, she will simpily go to her bedroom and lock the door. Then as a matter of course, without comment during or after, her husband sleeps on the sofa in the den. In the morning, Camisha is usually her old self again, just as if nothing had happened. ~ Martha Stout

Already she knew that the sound of a lock clicking into place would forever be a sensual cue, a promise Rafe would make to her of the pleasure he was going to give her with his hands, his lips, his
~ Bella Andre

You put a tattoo on yourself with the knowledge that this body is yours to have and enjoy while you're here. You have fun with it, and nobody else can control (supposedly) what you do with it. That's why tattooing is such a big thing in prison: it's an expression of freedom - one of the only expressions of freedom there. They can lock you down, control everything, but 'I've got my mind, and I can tattoo my body - alter it my way as an act of personal will.' ~ Don Ed Hardy

Just after midnight, I text my parents who live in Florida: Please tell me you didn't help elect him.

No reply.

The next morning, New York City wakes up with a wet, gray yawn. The air is thick with mist. The city moves at a slower, muffled pace. New Yorkers rarely make eye contact; today isn't much different, except when eyes meet, they lock for a moment in shared grief. Everyone's shoulders bend forward, the world weighing heavier on them than it did yesterday.

The sidewalks and the coffee shops are quiet. Even the subway paces through its underground veins in somber silence. My husband tells me: "The city hasn't been this quiet since 9/11."

- Melissa Lirtsman ~ Erin Passons

Well, make up your mind. I don't have all night." Fidelia set her beer on the porch and removed a set of keys from her skirt pocket. She fumbled with the key, trying to release the trigger lock on her pistol.
"Don't do that," Heather warned her. "You've had too much to drink."
Fidelia snorted. "I'm not drunk. I'm in complete control." She tore off the trigger lock.
Bang! The gun fired, ripping into a nearby oak tree.
The women screamed. Jean-Luc winced.
A squirrel plummeted from the tree and landed in the yard with a thud.
Fidelia shrugged. "I meant to do that. Damned rodent's been gnawing on the house. And stealing all the nuts from our pecan tree."
Heather planted her hands on her hips. "Haven't I told you a million times to keep the locks on?"
Fidelia hung her head, looking properly remorseful. "I'll be more careful." She switched on the safety, then shot Jean-Luc a pointed look. "I know how to deal with a scumbag with nuts. ~ Kerrelyn Sparks

Maggie, we're through with lies and liars in this house. Lock the door. ~ Tennessee Williams

Well, I'm here to tell you: I've seen women passionately devoted to men who couldn't pile bricks, and whole families of slack-jawed nose pickers held together by "love," not to mention all those people who curl up at night with dogs that have gunk running out of their eyes, dogs who earlier peed where they were about to walk and spent ten minutes licking their own wormy butts. ~ Haven Kimmel

The colony can change a man if he willing and there be things he can do here that he can't do nowhere else. Regard this, coming to a land where a man can seduce, rape or sodomise any niggerwoman or boy or girl he wish and there be nothing that nobody goin' do, for every other white man be doing the same...Negro take heed of the case of William Clarke, who rape and strangle five negro girl but nobody arrest until he kill Worthy Park Estate most expensive slave and get lock up for destroying property, not murder. But that don't stop the white man. As for the white woman, she can only turn her eye and sip tea. ~ Marlon James

She accused him of not thinking she was enough for him? The woman was entirely too much for him! She made him want to bellow with rage and hit things, then lock her in a room and kiss her senseless, until she gave in. ~ Sarah MacLean

So, what's behind door number one?" Mary commented, bringing him out of his thoughts as the second air lock door opened.
"Pardon?"
"Oh, nothing. Game show reference, I make silly comments when I get nervous."
He led the way in to the corridor, on either side glass windows looked over the flanking rooms but it was too dark to see anything. Valdagerion suddenly stopped, listening. Abruptly he pressed her flat against the wall, almost crushing her just as four armed Unseeile appeared around the curve in the corner, rifles aiming. Blue bursts of light and heat flew past them.
"Shit." Mary squeaked. "I would have settled for the cuddly toy. ~ D.M. Alexandra

You are really nuts, you know it? One a these days they're gonna come over and just lock you up! You aren't playing with a full deck, Eunice. I think somebody blew your pilot light out. There's more. You know what? You got splinters in the windmill of your mind. You're playin hockey with a warped puck! I think you dine sprung a leak in your dingey ... ~ Vicki Lawrence

In the dark ages a vampire could live for decades unopposed, feeding nightly on people whose only defense was to bar their windows and lock their doors and always, always, be home before sundown. When it became necessary to slay a vampire there was only one way it could be done. There were no guns and certainly no jackhammers at the time. The vampire slayers would gather up every able-bodied male in the community. The mob of them would go against the vampire with torches and spears and sticks if they had to. Very many of them would die in the first onslaught but eventually enough of them would pile on top to hold the vampire down. ~ David Wellington

Glancing around the entrance hall, she realized the crate was no longer in the corner. The twins must have raced downstairs the moment it had been mentioned. Clutching it on either side, they lugged it furtively toward the receiving room.
"Girls," Kathleen said sharply, "bring that back here at once!"
But it was too late. The receiving room's double doors closed, accompanied by the click of a key turning in the lock. Kathleen stopped short, her jaw slackening.
West and Helen staggered together, overcome with hilarity.
"I'll have you know," Mrs. Church said in amazement, "it took our two stoutest footmen to bring that crate into the house. How did two young ladies manage to carry it away so quickly?"
"Sh-sheer determination," Helen wheezed.
"All I want in this life," West told Kathleen, "is to see you try to pry that crate away from those two."
"I wouldn't dare," she replied, giving up. "They would do me bodily harm. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Are you happy, Zack?" I ask. A dangerous question. One I have no right to ask. I'm standing, my hand on the passenger door to the Suburban. He's on the driver's side, key in the lock. "I'm not sure I ever will be. Something's missing. I don't even know what it is, but I know I want it back in the worst possible way. ~ S.J. Harper

So I wait for the day when I'll hear the key as it turns in the lock And the guard will say to me, Oh my patient prisoner you waited for this day and finally, you are free! You are free! You are free! ~ Conor Oberst

But i've slammed the door to my inner self; if he ever wants to force the lock again, he'll have to use a harder crowbar! ~ Anne Frank

Open your hearts to the love God instills ... God loves you tenderly. What He gives you is not to be kept under lock and key, but to be shared. ~ Mother Teresa

Every house has a door, but it also has windows, a hole in the roof, or a broken lock. There is always a way in. ~ Victoria Aveyard

Don't try to be the missing key in my life, and I won't be the unmatched lock, that doesn't let you in. ~ Anthony Liccione

I can pick your lock anytime I want a taste of your pussy. ~ Ainsley Booth

How does someone who has never been a father become one? How do any of us progress beyond our temporary limits? The potential person we can become hums in an invisible grid within and without us. A genius may actuate by intuition but all of us need heroes, role models, and mentors, that we may see what is possible, living mandalas to lock onto as we inhale and expand into new states. ~ Russell Brand

The question kept breaking into her thoughts as she maneuvered through light traffic and an increasingly difficult roadway. On impulse, she pulled into the crowded parking lot at the supermarket and made her way down one aisle and then another, tossing things into the basket without any real plan. Part of her wanted to snuggle into a cozy domestic situation with Jarrod, snow piled high outside, a pot of soup simmering on the stove, maybe a pie in the oven, and his rumbling baritone muttering sweet nothings in her ear. The other part wanted to run, fast, to her office and lock herself inside where she would scan potential vacation spots and book her flight. Leave tomorrow or, well, as soon as the runways were clear. ~ Lizzie Ashworth

If you put a door marked "Authorized Personnel ONLY" and me in the same building, sooner or later I'll try to jimmy its lock to discover what's so special about it. ~ Ilona Andrews

There's a murderer on the loose in Sugarcomb Lake," Clarissa reminded her. "I'm positive the wrong person has been arrested. So be on high alert until the real killer is caught, okay? Lock your door tonight and don't open it for anyone." Liana ~ Alaine Allister

We will need to stay over two nights in a hotel on our trip home."
Momentarily alarmed, I glanced at Ren. "Okay. Umm, I was thinking that maybe this time if you don't mind, we could check out one of those bigger hotels. You know, something that has more people around. With elevators and rooms that lock. Or even better, a nice high-rise hotel in a big city. Far, far, far away from the jungle?"
Mr. Kadam chuckled. "I'll see what I can do."
I graced Mr. Kadam with a beatific smile. "Good! Could we please go now? I can't wait to take a shower." I opened the door to the passenger side then turned and hissed in a whisper aimed at Ren, "In my nice, upper-floor, inaccessible-to-tigers hotel room."
He just looked at me with his innocent, blue-eyed tiger face again. I smiled wickedly at him and hopped in the Jeep, slamming the door behind me. My tiger just calmly trotted over to the back where Mr. Kadam was loading the last of his supplies and leapt up into the back seat. He leaned in the front, and before I could push him away, he gave me a big, wet, slobbery tiger kiss right on my face.
I sputtered, "Ren! That is so disgusting!"
I used my T-shirt to swipe the tiger saliva from my nose and cheek and turned to yell at him some more. He was already lying down in the back seat with his mouth hanging open, as if he were laughing. Before I could really lay into him, Mr. Kadam, who was the happiest I'd ever seen him, got into the Jeep, and we started the bumpy ~ Colleen Houck

Sonny would tell Marcus about how America used to lock up black men off the sidewalks for labor or how redlining kept banks from investing in black neighborhoods, preventing mortgages or business loans. So was it a wonder that prisons were still full of them? Was it a wonder that the ghetto was the ghetto? ~ Yaa Gyasi

Uh ... could you leave him here? He kind of comes with the place."
Frowning, Lock glanced down. "Oh, jeez!" Oh, jeez? ~ Shelly Laurenston

Perfection. Excellence. What a passionate lover. But once having tasted the lips of excellence, once having given oneself to its perfection, how dreary and burdensome and filled with anomie are the remainder of one's waking hours trapped in the shackled lock-step of the merely ordinary, the barely acceptable, the just okay and not a stroke better. ~ Harlan Ellison

But once you have some success in one style, the business wants to lock you in that vein forever. ~ Richard Marx

...religions that believe they have a lock on divine wisdom and a reserved seat in the VIP section of the hereafter. ~ Rysa Walker

Clary squinted at it. 'Is it going to turn me into a rodent?'
'Where's the trust? I think it's strawberry juice,' Isabelle said. 'Anyway, it's yummy. Jace?' She offered him the glass.
'I am a man,' he told her, 'and men do not consume pink beverages. Get thee gone, woman, and bring me something brown.'
'Brown?' Isabelle made a face.
'Brown is a manly color,' said Jace, and yanked on a stray lock of Isabelle's hair with his free hand. 'In fact, look- Alec is wearing it. ~ Cassandra Clare

My marriage to Jamie had been for me like the turning of a great key, each small turn setting in the intricate fall of tumblers within me. Bree had been able to turn that key as well, edging closer to the unlocking of the door of myself. But the final turn of the lock was frozen
until I had walked into the print shop in Edinburgh, and the mechanism had sprung free with a final, decisive click. ~ Diana Gabaldon

He stills, and our eyes lock, his narrowing, holding mine captive. "Run to me, not from me. ~ Lisa Renee Jones