Opening A Door Quotes

Each full, deep inhale creates more space in your body and mind. Each long, exhale moves you directly into that space. The deeper you breathe, the more opens up. It's like opening a door and walking through with each breath. The fuller your breaths the more and more doors open on up, leaving you with the space to walk on in! ~ Tara Stiles

Yes' is a very powerful word. It's like opening a door. It's like fanning a flame. It's the most powerful word in the world. ~ Kenneth Oppel

Through practical life exercises, your child will gain confidence, self-sufficiency and the ability to properly interact with others in their world. The focus of practical life activities should be how to care for themselves and their environment, as well as safely maneuvering through it. Think along the lines of proper hand washing, dressing oneself, opening a door, carrying scissors, watering a plant, taking care of their workspace, etiquette, etc. We will later discuss a few specific activities for practical life, however you will be presented with countless opportunities throughout the day that require no planning, but rather a keen eye to acknowledge them as they occur. ~ Sterling Production

Conservatism is far from what I'm aiming at in proclaiming the establishment of a Sethian left-hand path tradition in the West as one of the first missions of the SLM. In fact, in establishing such a tradition, true to the spirit of sacred transgression and holy subversion that is essential to both Seth and the left-hand path, we are opening a door that enlightens through endangerment, that awakens through risk and peril: this is a radical (from Latin radix, root, implying how deep a change is required) enterprise that is the very opposite of conservatism."
"From the Eye of the Storm" (Zeena's column as Hemet-Neter Tepi Seth for the SLM), Volume I - Summer Solstice issue (2003): "Building a Sethian Left-Hand Path Tradition in the West. ~ Zeena Schreck

He's opening a door, but he already knows I won't walk through. The power of Bodee is in the way he reads me, sees through me, and then understands the truth behind the facade. He's the guy who can walk straight through the House of Mirrors on the first try. It's almost annoying. No one should ride tragedy like a pro surfer while I drown. ~ Courtney C. Stevens

Drugs have a long history of use in magic in various cultures, and usually in the context of either ecstatic communal rituals or in personal vision quests. However compared to people in simple pastoral tribal situations most people in developed countries now live in a perpetual state of mental hyperactivity with overactive imaginations anyway, so throwing drugs in on top of this usually just leads to confusion and a further loss of focus.
Plus as the real Shamans say, if you really do succeed in opening a door with a drug it will thereafter open at will and most such substances give all they will ever give on the first attempt. ~ Peter J. Carroll

Without someone giving you a shot, opening a door, believing that your obsession is a real thing when you're young, you don't get the opportunity. Every single day I'm reminded of that. ~ Ryan Seacrest

(about cinema) It's like opening a door and go into a new world. ~ David Lynch

Yeah, I guess I do." My heart plummets again. "Or I did. Maybe I still do. I don't know. But I didn't bring her to the dance. I brought you. It seems I spend all my time with you."
"Why is that?" I'm genuinely curious but aware that I could be opening a door I don't want opened. I quickly rephrase. "I mean, why do you want to?"
He looks thoughtful.
"You're funny," he finally says. "I laugh a lot when I'm with you. I always have fun when I'm with you. And you try to hide it, but you're actually pretty sweet."
"That's a horrible thing to say," I say petulantly, crossing my arms tightly again. He chuckles.
"And you're really smart."
"Now I know you're lying."
"You are. But you try to hide that as well. And you're pretty."
"Worse and worse," I moan. He grins.
"And when I'm with you, I don't want to be anywhere else or with anyone else. ~ Cindy C. Bennett

I love 'yes.' It's practically the most interesting word of all, don't you think? Like a hinge opening a door outward. Yes, yes, yes. ~ Hanif Kureishi

When you walk into your memories, you are opening a door to the past; the road within has many branches, and the route is different every time. ~ Xinran

Some writing is a really nice solitary process, in a way, because you can be a little self-conscious around other people. If it's just you, and you're at your favorite piano, or whatever instrument, and you feel comfortable, then somehow, I always feel like it's opening a door and letting whatever is to pass through pass. ~ Marketa Irglova

It felt terrific. It felt deeper and richer than laughter. It felt like opening a door and tumbling headfirst into a pile of feathers. ~ Leslea Tash

Now that she had got over the surprise, there was something offensive about this lack of reaction. It was like someone opening a door just before your battering ram hit it; suddenly you were running through the building and not certain how to stop. ~ Terry Pratchett

Being alone with her is like opening a door away from normal life and then closing it behind him. ~ Sally Rooney

Courtesy is a science of the highest importance. It is ... opening a door that we may derive instruction from the example of others, and at the same time enabling us to benefit them by our example, if there be anything in our character worthy of imitation. ~ Michel De Montaigne

Starting a novel is opening a door on a misty landscape; you can still see very little but you can smell the earth and feel the wind blowing. ~ Iris Murdoch

Opening a door to the mysteries, hoping to shed a little dark on all the stuff we think we know. ~ Brian Andreas

If ever I feel I might be able to tackle it, I'd love to try holding a spear or something in the theater, or opening a door, or anything, just to try it, you know, because it must be some marvelous magic thing. ~ Hayley Mills

He played the opening bars again, opening a door for her, inviting her to join. She started quietly, almost voiceless, only a thin string of sound weaving herself into his tune, as if her voice were just another string on the guitar between his fingers. She had to be careful, so no one saw the changes on her face. But she didn't want to be careful; she couldn't be careful. He played and she sang to him, and inside her more and more blocks of ice began to melt, cracking and falling into the frozen sea between them. She sang of all the things that were happening to her and him, the world that collapsed over both of them, the things that might be in store, if only they dared to believe it was possible. ~ David Grossman

Writing fantasy is like opening a door onto millions of people's dreams that they never knew they were having. ~ Michael Timmins

The robot successfully dismounted the car, proceeding at a slight crouch, and with exaggerated caution, toward the door; these movements it performed in the manner of a prodigiously shitfaced man intent on demonstrating that he had only had a couple of sherries with dinner. ~ Mark O'Connell

It was interesting that feminists of my generation told me: You are discouraging younger women; you are confirming stereotypes of women; you are opening a door, initiating a debate, that will harm our movement. And my point was: We are already having this debate, especially in the younger generation. ~ Anne-Marie Slaughter

It had begun to be present to him after the first fortnight, it had broken out with the oddest abruptness, this particular wanton wonderment: it met him there
and this was the image under which he himself judged the matter, or at least, not a little, thrilled and flushed with it
very much as he might have been met by some strange figure, some unexpected occupant, at a turn of one of the dim passages of an empty house. The quaint analogy quite hauntingly remained with him, when he didn't indeed rather improve it by a still intenser form: that of his opening a door behind which he would have made sure of finding nothing, a door into a room shuttered and void, and yet so coming, with a great suppressed start, on some quite erect confronting presence, something planted in the middle of the place and facing him through the dusk. ~ Henry James

The killer simply picked any one of the men in gray suits and followed them from office building to cash machine, from lunchtime restaurant back to office building. Those gray suits were not happy, yet showed their unhappiness only during moments of weakness. Punching the buttons of a cash machine that refused to work. Yelling at a taxi that had come too close. Insulting the homeless people who begged for spare change. But the killer also saw the more subtle signs of unhappiness. A slight limp in uncomfortable shoes. Eyes closed, head thrown back while waiting for the traffic signal. The slight hesitation before opening a door. The men in gray suits wanted to escape, but their hatred and anger trapped them. ~ Sherman Alexie

Prayer is so simple. It is like quietly opening a door and slipping into the very presence of God. - Unknown ~ Kenneth W. Osbeck

The sounds aren't where the meaning lives. […]

Their language is organised noise, like all of ours are, but for them each word is a funnel. Where to us each word means something, to the Hosts, each is an opening. A door, through which the thought of that referent, the thought itself that reached for that word, can be seen. […]

When they speak they do hear the soul in each voice. That's how the meaning lives there. The words have got . . ." He shook his head, hesitating, then just using that religiose term. "Got the soul in them. And it has to be there, the meaning. Has to be true to be Language. ~ China Mieville

Sometimes the presence of a camera is like opening a door. ~ Michael Glawogger

There's a picture in When the Lights Go Down: A Short Illustrated History of Film of Alec Matto smoking in a chair in a room with a slice of light blaring over his head toward a screen we can't see. 'Alec Matto reviewing dailies for Where Has Julia Gone? (1947) in his private screening room.' Joan had to tell me what dailies are, it's when the director takes sometime in the evening, while smoking, to see all the footage that was filmed that day, maybe just one scene, a man opening a door over and over, a woman pointing out the window, pointing out the window, pointing out the window. That's dailies, and it took seven or eight matches on the roof over the garage for me to go over our breathless dailies that night, the nervous wait with the tickets in my hand, Lottie Carson heading north on those trains, kissing you, kissing you, the strange conversation in A-Post Novelties that had me all nerve-wracky after I talked to Al about it, even though he said he had no opinion. The matches were little he loves me, he loves me not, but then I saw right on the box that I had twenty-four, which would end the game at not, so I just let the small handful sparkle and puff for a bit, each one a thrill, a tiny delicious jolt for each part I remembered, until I burned my finger and went back in still thinking of all we did together. ~ Daniel Handler

Janie. . ."

I glanced toward the door of our bedroom, having not heard Quinn come home.

His glare moved between me and my plate. "What are you eating?"

I frowned, first at him, then at my food, then at him again. "Pickles."

I couldn't help but think, If I were a Hobbit, I wouldn't have to explain myself.

"Pickles, and?"

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I spoke around the pickle spear. "Pickles and the butter of peanuts. ~ Penny Reid

over-the-top humor and iconoclastic take on conformity, censorship, hypocrisy, and sexual inhibition. Mad magazine on steroids, with sound. Talking about the album and his band several months later, Frank Zappa said, "I am trying to use the weapons of a disoriented and unhappy society against itself. The Mothers of Invention are designed to come in the back door and kill you while you're sleeping. ~ Candy Leonard

Halt!" Marco remained hidden behind the door. "This area is restricted." The voice sounded distorted. It must have been an Outsider in a mask. ~ Dayna Lorentz

Books are the perfect Time Machine. By the simple act of opening a book you can, in an instant, be travelling up a jungle river without once being bitten by mosquitoes, or you can almost die of thirst in the desert while holding a cold drink in your hand, or dine in the finest restaurants and never have to worry about paying the bill, or ride the wild country of our western frontier and never worry about losing your scalp to a raiding party. ~ Louis L'Amour

I excused myself from the conversation, walked away, and stuck my hands in my jacket pockets. I had no drink. I didn't fidget. I kept my head down and headed for the door. It wasn't that far. I just had to get by some people who wouldn't suspect a thing, because I didn't know any of them. I didn't have to grab my coat because it was still on my shoulders. If Shawn saw me, I would say I was just going for air or a smoke or something. I had been trying to quit, and he knew this, so maybe going out for air was a better excuse. Sure, it was probably eleven below, but it was crowded and he'd buy it because I'd made him believe that I'm shy. I could be out in the midnight winter chill and home within an hour. It would have been safe, and I would have been warm, and no Chinook would have hit me. ~ Sawyer Paul

She slapped his shoulder. "You... you go down to breakfast, Gram. I'll be there as soon as I shower and dress."
"Have you been exercising? You sound out of breath."
Creighton buried his face in a pillow, his body shaking with laughter.
Gram knocked on the door. "Do you have a man in there with you?"
"No, Gram..."
He pushed himself off the pillow and sat, his large hands sweeping dark hair away from his face. "Aye, she bloody well does."
Clapping sounded from the other side of the door followed by Gram's bellowing "Born to be Wild. ~ Vonnie Davis

St. Teresa of Avila once said: "We can only learn to know ourselves and do what we can - namely, surrender our will and fulfill God's will in us." For Christians not of the prosperity persuasion, surrender is a virtue; the writings of the saints are full of commands to "let go" and to submit yourself to what seems to be the will of the Almighty. All of American culture and pop psychology scream against that. Never give up on your dreams! Just keep knocking, that door is about to open! Think positively! Self-improvement guaranteed!! The entire motivational-speaking industry rests on the assumption that you can have what you want, you can be what you want. Just do it.
When prosperity believers live out their daily struggles with smiles on their faces, sometimes I want to applaud. They confront the impossible and joyfully insist that God make a way. They obediently put miracle oil on their failing bodies. They give large offerings to the church and expect great things. They stubbornly get out of their hospital beds and declare themselves healed, and every now and then, it works.
They are addicted to self-rule, and so am I. ~ Kate Bowler

She thought she was getting out of the Water Rising clean, because she didn't see her father anywhere around: there was only Ash and Lillian sitting at a table, and a few other patrons at as much of a distance from Ash and Lillian as they could get. She made for the door, at which point Lillian caught her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Uh," said Kami, eyeballing her wildly. "I'm going to buy some drugs."

Lillian stared. "I beg your pardon?"

"This is a really stressful time for everyone," said Kami. "So I thought maybe I could buy a little weed, take the edge off. I might be a while. This is a very clean-living town, apart from all the murders, so I don't actually know any drug dealers. I realize Jared kind of looks like one, but he's not, which is a shame because I think the drug dealer's girlfriend gets her drugs free."

"I realize you are attempting to be humorous," said Lillian, after a pause during which she stared some more. "I don't understand it."

"Hey, you're not the only family with a legacy. 'Glass' rhymes with 'sass.' Have you met my dad?"

"I have had that dubious pleasure," said Lillian. "He is, in fact, meant to be meeting me in order to, and I quote, 'teach me to integrate better with society, display leadership skills, win over the populace, and stop acting like a robot princess from space.' I admit that the humor in his humor escapes me as well." She paused and suddenly looked determined ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

My work is just beginning. The easy part is over - the initial capture. It will be far more challenging from this point on. I need to set the stage for her to bond with her captor -- me. I know it will take time for her to accept her fate. In the coming weeks she'll move through predictable stages, much like the stages of grief: shock, anger, fear, even bargaining. Eventually, she'll realize that she depends on me – requires me -- for her day-to-day, most basic needs. Then will come the final stage, a coup de grace that is to be savored and celebrated: acceptance. Her will to survive will break down her resistance and bring her walls crashing down. That's my favorite part - the giving over of her will.
I straighten the cuffs on my tailored shirt as I peer through the door's window pane. It's interesting to watch her as she shuffles across the floor on her knees, blindfolded - the chains on her feet and wrists impede her attempts to move about freely. Her wrists are bruised and bloodied from her attempts to free herself, her vision hampered by a blindfold. And yet she fights. My brave girl. ~ Suzanne Steele

One of my favorite "deep thoughts" on the topic occurred when one of my other bands, Loaded, was opening for Alice Cooper a number of years back. After one particularly successful show, we got to talking about Bon Jovi. In the song "Wanted Dead Or Alive," the claim is made that "I've seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all." All? Let's ponder.
I have no doubt that Bon Jovi had played to a million people by the time "Dead or Alive" was released on Slippery When Wet in 1986. But did they rock them all? Couldn't it be that some dudes brought their girlfriends to the show and weren't necessarily into their music? What about some parents? Or maybe some people just didn't get rocked? Hey, it's happened to me. I've gone to gigs properly prepared to get rocked and it just didn't happen. ~ Duff McKagan

When she scooped up her clothes, opened his door, then snapped her fingers for a guard down the hall, Wroth watched like a bystander.
"Pssst. Minion. I need these laundered. Very little starch. Don't just stand there gawking or you'll anger my good frenemy General Wroth. We're like this."
He couldn't see her but knew she was twining two fingers together. ~ Kresley Cole

Sunday morning dawned bright and cloudless. Ernest awoke early as always. He put on the red "Emporor's robe" and padded softly down the carpeted stairway. The early sunlight lay in pools on the living room floor. He had noticed that the guns were locked up in the basement. But the keys, as he well knew, were on the window ledge above the kitchen sink. He tiptoed down the basement stairs and unlocked the storage room. It smelled as dank as a grave. He chose a double-barreled Boss shotgun with a tight choke. He had used it for years of pigeon shooting. He took some shells from one of the boxes in the storage room, closed and locked the door, and climbed the basement stairs. If he saw the bright day outside, it did not deter him. He crossed the living room to the front foyer, a shrinelike entryway five by seven feet, with oak-paneled walls and a floor of linoleum tile. He had held for years to the maxim: "il faut (d'abord) durer". Now it had been succeeded by another: "il faut (apres tout) mourir". The idea, if not the phrase, filled all his mind. He slipped in two shells, lowered the gun butt carefully to the floor, leaned forward, pressed the twin barrels against his forehead just above the eyebrows, and tripped both triggers. ~ Carlos Baker

I think you need a spanking for answering the door in
nothing but a towel, for making my cock so hard when I had
plans for us, for making me lose control. ~ Sherilee Gray

To love is to make of one's heart a swinging door. ~ Howard Thurman

How in the fuck is that even possible? Was Hades sleeping on the job o something?"
"Yes, Seth, he took a nap and Perses snuck in the back door and let them out. Then they skipped through the Vale of Mourning, stopped to have a pic-a-nic and then decided to leave the Underworld all slow-like, and all the while Hades was chillin' and doing nothing."
That sounded probable. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

You can stop applying with Day, because the position's been fuckin' filled." God caught the muffin Day threw at him and walked out the door. Day did very little to hide his grin as he drank his coffee. ~ A.E. Via

Taking out her gun, she turned to Monique. "You have any offensive capabilities? Know how to fire a weapon?" "My face and my body are my weapons, Guild Hunter." A hint of that upper-class sneer entered her tone. "Sex is about as physical as I get." "Bully for you." She slammed a fist on the garage door. "Hurry, Janvier! ~ Nalini Singh

The door to success may be a few steps away but you still have to walk
towards it. ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

Do everything as if unto the Lord. Offer up everything as if for the Lord, including jars of olives to the food pantry or leftover loaves of bread. Years later, that's finally how I make sense of it, where it settles out for me. If Jesus knocks on my door today, will I rummage through my home and give him the food I don't like, the outgrown jackets with stains and a broken zipper, the dirty Crock-Pot in the basement, the one with the chipped lid and mice nesting inside I've yet to find time to toss into the Salvation Army's dumpster? ~ Christa Parrish

Gray froze as Miss Turner emerged from the hold. For weeks, she'd plagued him-by day, he suffered glimpses of her beauty; by night, he was haunted by memories of her touch. And just when he thought he'd finally wrangled his desire into submission, today she'd ruined everything.
She'd gone and changed her dress.
Gone was that serge shroud, that forbidding thundercloud of a garment that had loomed in his peripheral vision for weeks. Today, she wore a cap-sleeved frock of sprigged muslin.
She stepped onto the deck, smiling face tilted to the wind. A flower opening to greet the sun. She bobbed on her toes, as though resisting the urge to make a girlish twirl. The pale, sheer fabric of her dress billowed and swelled in the breeze, pulling the undulating contour of calf, thigh, hip into relief.
Gray thought she just might be the loveliest creature he'd ever seen.
Therefore, he knew he ought to look away.
He did, for a moment. He made an honest attempt to scan the horizon for clouds. He checked the hour on his pocket watch, wound the small knob one, two, three, four times. He wiped a bit of salt spray from its glass face. He thought of England. And France, and Cuba, and Spain. He remembered his brother, his sister, and his singularly ugly Aunt Rosamond, on whom he hadn't clapped eyes in decades. And all this Herculean effort resulting in nothing but a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and precisely thirty seconds' delay in the inevitable.
He looked a ~ Tessa Dare

He interrupts her again. "I will stay without complaining ... "
"You have no choice!"
" ... if you'll do two things." The teasing has long left his face. He is dead serious.
I should leave but I can't. I know I'm about to witness a historic event, and I lurk next to the door, my eyes glued to Charlotte and Ambrose.
"Okay," Charlotte says, matching his gravity.
"Promise me you'll come back."
Charlotte is silent.
"And give me a kiss good-bye."
"What?" Charlotte blurts.
"You heard me."
She stands stock-still for a good couple of seconds before raising her fingertips to her mouth. Her eyes glitter with tears as she sits back down on the side of his bed. And taking his good hand in hers, she leans forward and kisses him. It is a slow kiss. It is a lingering kiss. It's the kiss she's been waiting for for years. ~ Amy Plum

He paused at the bedroom door, shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and walked right out like it was any other morning, and he and Jack would be having breakfast as if they hadn't had sex the night before.
"Morning," he said, casting a quick glance over his shoulder.
"Mmm," D grunted.
"You done in the bathroom?"
D blinked. No, I jus' took a little breather in the middle a my mornin' beauty ritual ta come out here 'n' chat with ya. A course I'm done. ~ Jane Seville

I noticed that she left her office door open, too.So she could keep an eye on me, no doubt, in case I decided to grab the andirons and make a run for it.
I stood for a minute, taking it all in. Not what I'd expected at all. And Edward hadn't been any help: "Heavens, how should I know what's there? Whatever was left after my collective vulture of a family descended,I assume..."
The first thing I did was to sit down on the sofa. The old leather creaked loudly enough to make me flinch. But it was worth risking the return of Dr. Rothaus to sit where Edward had sat. Only, it didn't feel very significant. Just cold and little slippery. ~ Melissa Jensen

The French Revolution, which is nothing more nor less than the ideal armed with the sword, rose abruptly, and by that very movement, closed the door of evil and opened the door of good.
It released the question, promulgated truth, drove away miasma, purified the century, crowned the people.
We can say it created man a second time, in giving him a second soul, his rights. Page 997 Saint-Denis chapter 7 Argot part III ~ Victor Hugo

One can go back to one's own home after a year's absence and immediately the door closes it is as if one had never been away. Or one can go back after a few hours and everything is so changed that one is a stranger. ~ Graham Greene

I turned to run, but I didn't actually take a step, even though I wanted to. That wasn't the way I was raised. My mother taught me that if you knock on a door, you have to wait there until someone answers. ~ Haruki Murakami

I can find almost anything funny, thank God, so you search for the black, lacy slip that encases the corpse. You know, shift the angle. God may take away, but he often leaves you with a terrific opening line for the next adventure. I would suggest taking it. Move on; change the angle; look at it in a different way tomorrow. ~ Tennessee Williams

You can argue that it's a different world now than the one when Matthew Shepard was killed, but there is a subtle difference between tolerance and acceptance. It's the distance between moving into the cul-de-sac and having your next door neighbor trust you to keep an eye on her preschool daughter for a few minutes while she runs out to the post office. It's the chasm between being invited to a colleague's wedding with your same-sex partner and being able to slow-dance without the other guests whispering. ~ Jodi Picoult

You'll have to leave my meals on a tray outside the door because I'll be
working pretty late on the secret of making myself invisible, which may take me almost until eleven o'clock. ~ S.J Perelman

A company in which anyone is afraid to speak up, to differ, to be daring and original, is closing the coffin door on itself. ~ Leo Burnett

Beyond those to another hall, with four doors--not woven doors, but real colorwood ones--redwood, bluewood, goldwood, greenwood--beautifully carved and obviously ancient.
The servants opened one and bowed me into a round-walled room that meant we were in a tower; windows on three sides looked out over the valley. The room was flooded with light, so much that I was dazzled for a moment and had to blink. Shading my eyes, I had a swift impression of a finely carved and gilded redwood table surrounded by blue satin cushions. Then I saw that the room was occupied.
Standing between two of the windows, almost hidden by slanting rays of sun, was a tall figure with pale blond hair.
The Marquis was looking down at the valley, hands clasped behind him. At the sound of the door closing behind me he looked up and came forward, and for a moment was a silhouette in the strong sunlight.
I stood with my back to the door. We were alone.
"Welcome to Renselaeus, Lady Meliara." And when I did not answer, he pointed to a side table. "Would you like anything to drink? To eat?"
"Why am I here?" I asked in a surly voice, suddenly and acutely aware of how ridiculous I must look dressed in his livery. "You may as well get the threats out at once. All this politeness seems about as false as…" As a courtier's word, I thought, but speech wouldn't come and I just shook my head.
He returned no immediate answer; instead seemed absorbed in pouring wine from a fine silver dec ~ Sherwood Smith

From somewhere under the shadows of the cholla, other dogs took on the self-important job of announcing our arrival to the chickens and the townspeople, barely managing to annoy an indifferent burro sitting tied to a rock, asleep perhaps, opening its bored eyes only halfway and batting its ears only slightly, without moving its head, not amused by either the furious sounds or the sight of strangers. ~ -Milan Sime Martinic, Ironway: Watching Over Benjamin Hill -

We went down, and at the bottom there was a door, and on the door there was a sign. Two words. BE SURE. Sure of what? We were twelve, we weren't sure of anything. ~ Seanan McGuire

I was writing up a New Mexico snow-storm, I had it coming down thick and heavy, muffling the roads and mounding on adobe walls and windowsills and whitening the piñon and junipers when the tapping came on the door. ~ Wallace Stegner