Door Frame Quotes & Sayings

Opened the door. He was leaning with his arm up on the frame, and his other hand on his hip. The way he was standing caught me off-guard. I'd noticed the red T-shirt and the blue jeans he wore, but with his arm up like that, the muscles in his arm and shoulders were much more noticeable. My heart tripped in my chest at how handsome he was. His blue eyes swept over me. His face brightened. Yeah. I like those. — C.L.Stone

It'll be when you first learn to walk that I get daily demonstrations of the asymmetry in our relationship. You'll be incessantly running off somewhere, and each time you walk into a door frame or scrape your knee, the pain feels like it's my own. It'll be like growing an errant limb, an extension of myself whose sensory nerves report pain just fine, but whose motor nerves don't convey my commands at all. It's so unfair: I'm going to give birth to an animated voodoo doll of myself. I didn't see this in the contract when I signed up. Was this part of the deal? — Ted Chiang

I put my hand next to his shoulder on the door frame, not touching, but real close. Look, Blondie. I'm not asking you to bottom, just to fucking navigate. — Rie Warren

Nightmares did come true. Because, after her second night of major loving with the man of her dreams, the absolute last person she ever wanted to see was her mother. Yet there she was, her small, hefty frame trundling up the stairs to Maira's front door.
She was so frozen with horror, she couldn't move until she heard the doorbell ring.
Don't answer it. Maybe she'll go away.
Well, that was just stupid. — Alisha Rai

As a little boy, I apparently had a predilection for undoing latch gates, running up pathways and ringing doorbells - and then running off again and away before the door was opened behind me. — Ronald Frame

Every day I watched how a bare metal frame, rolling down the line would come off the other end, a spanking brand new car. What a great idea! Maybe, I could do the same thing with my music. Create a place where a kid off the street could walk in one door, an unknown, go through a process, and come out another door, a star. — Berry Gordy

He was standing leaning against the door frame; now he stood up straight. How should I have kissed you? Is there an other way you like it? — Cassandra Clare

He leaned against the door frame, ignoring the kick of adrenaline the sight of her produced. He wondered why, not for the first time. Isabelle used her beauty like she used her whip, but Clary didn't know she was beautiful at all. Maybe that was why. — Cassandra Clare

Fuck!" He hit the door frame. It hurt. He did it again.
"Problems?"
"Yeah," said Gabriel. "Nick took the car."
Michael didn't even look up from the screen. "Huh. Didn't you do the same thing this morning?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid."
Now his brothers eyes flicked up. "I'm sorry, was that a mature adult punching the front door? — Brigid Kemmerer

Kota!" I said, stepping away from my sisters and Lucy.
"You can sleep on the couch or in the garage or in the tree house for all I care; but if you don't check your attitude, I'll send you back to your apartment right now! Have some gratitude for the security you've been offered. Need I remind you that tomorrow we're burying our father? Either stop the bickering or go home." I turned on my heel and headed down the hall. Without checking, I knew Lucy was right behind me, suitcase in hand.
I opened the door to my room, waiting for her to come in with me. Once her skirts swished past the frame, I slammed it shut, heaving a sigh. "Was that too much?" I asked.
"It was perfect!" she replied with delight.
"You might as well be the princess already, miss. You're ready for it. — Kiera Cass

For every crime that comes before him, a judge is required to complete a perfect syllogism in which the major premise must be the general law; the minor, the action that conforms or does not conform to the law; and the conclusion, acquittal or punishment. If the judge were constrained, or if he desired to frame even a single additional syllogism, the door would thereby be opened to uncertainty. — Cesare Beccaria

I stand there for just a few seconds before people realize that I'm there. Their conversation peters out. I wipe my palms off on the hem of my shirt. Too many eyes, and too much silence.
Evelyn clears her throat. "Everyone, this is Tris Prior. I believe you may have heard a lot about her yesterday."
"And Christina, Uriah, and Lynn," supplies Tobias. I'm grateful for his attempt to divert everyone's attention from me, but it doesn't work.
I stand glued to the door frame for a few seconds, and then one of the factionless men--older, his wrinkled skin patterned with tattoos--speaks up.
"Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
Some of the others laugh, and I try a smile. It emerges crooked and small.
"Supposed to be," I say.
"We don't like to give Jeanine Matthews what she wants, though," Tobias says. — Veronica Roth

But these people _announced_ their madness ... they flaunted their insanity, they weren't half mad and half not, curled around a door frame. They were properly mad in the Shakespearean sense, talking sense when you least expected it. — Zadie Smith

Nykyrian shifted to one side of the door frame. "Stop stalling, asshole. Do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to stand here until your partner comes up behind me?" He snapped his fingers.
An unconscious man was shoved through the door. Pitala cursed.
"I really hate taking out the trash." Syn joined Nykyrian as he wiped his hands together.
-Nykyrian, Pitala, & Syn — Sherrilyn Kenyon

The moon, almost full, shines high in the sky in front of me. I roll down the window and rest my arm on top of the door frame. The night air blowing in softly through the open window feels cool on my face. For the moment, all seems right with the world. — Kevin James Shay

But then he stops at the door frame and says, It's 9:24. Telling me the time is a small act of betrayal-and therefore an ordinary act of bravery. It is maybe the first time I've seen Peter be truly Dauntless. — Veronica Roth

She was halfway through the book, her eyes heavy with sleep, when the bedroom door opened. Brishen stood at the threshold, dressed down to undertunic and trousers, his feet bare and his hair damp. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. "Woman of day, you waited for me."

Ildiko closed her book and offered him a drowsy smile. Relief and happiness coursed through her. "Prince of night, you've come back to me - your head intact."

"I promised I'd try." — Grace Draven

As I was walking in the fields, the thought came over me with almost overwhelming power, that every one of my flock must soon be in heaven or hell. Oh how I wished that I had a tongue like thunder, that I might make all hear; or that I had a frame like iron, that I might visit every one and say, Escape for thy life! Ah sinner! You little know how I fear that you will lay the blame of your damnation at my door. — Robert Murray M'Cheyne

It's quiet in the car, in a good way for once. No words, no music. Silence seems right. I roll down the windows and lean my head against the door frame, listening to the wind rush by and smelling the pine trees. I watch the stars materialize, like someone is dimming the switch on the night sky so each shining dot grows brighter and brighter. — Jennifer Salvato Doktorski

You go first," Four says. Eric shrug. "Edward." Four leans against the door frame and nods. The moonlight makes his eyes bright. He scans the group of transfer initiates briefly, without calculation and says, "I want the Stiff." ...
Heat rushes into my cheeks and I don't know whether to be angry at the people laughing at me or flattered by the fact that he chose me first. "Got something to prove?" asks Eric, with his trademark smirk. "Or you just picking the weak ones, so that if you lose, you'll have someone to blame it on?" Four shrugs. "Something like that." Angry. I should be angry. I scowl at my hands. Whatever Four's strategy is, it's based on the idea that I am weaker than the other initiates. And it gives me a bitter taste in my mouth. i have to prove him wrong
I have to. — Veronica Roth

To these children, the door William has just come through is a portal. Being shoved through it means a trip to hell where only demons come to visit and the man before them fits that description; his deep, hard eyes frame his long, winding scar and behind him, flames rise as the smell of smoke and charring meat waft into the room. — M.R. Gott

Wow. You're going to be a little more difficult to date than I
anticipated."
I loosely crossed my arms and leaned against the door frame. "Yep. It's gonna require a little effort on your part. Like physically leaving your room and crossing that horrible hallway that protects you from the cold and snow, and actually come talk to me in person."
"Alright, alright. You win. Personal contact it is. So how about you meet me for lunch tomorrow?"
"Sure." I reached over and gently tugged him towards me. "See how easy that was?" His body pressed up against me and his lips brushed mine once more. My insides did a happy dance.
"I want you to remember this arrangement when I stop by unexpectedly and you have green goop smeared all over your face and you're too embarrassed to open the door. — Devon Ashley

A bullet kissed a hole in the door-frame close to my noodle. — Dashiell Hammett

I took one last look at the man who owned my body and soul for so many years. His face twisted into a mask of sheer devastation. I wanted to reach out and console him, to say everything would work out. It wouldn't though, not until he put his family before his career.
"I never thought our love story had an end," Luke said faintly.
Clicking the door shut, I slid down the wooden frame into a heap on the floor. Sobs racked my body as I echoed the same sentiments in my head. Our love story shouldn't have had an end. Only a beginning. — Nicole Simone

You might be a redneck if you hammer bottle caps into the frame of your front door to make it look nice. — Jeff Foxworthy

She leaves him sitting there, glancing back just once before she goes through the stairwell door and observing how the cloud of smoke from his cigar gets pulled in wisps out the dark gaping hole in the glass wall
as though it is his soul, too large for his massive frame and seeping out the pores of his skin and wandering circuitous back into the wilderness where it knows itself true among the violent and the dead. — Alden Bell

She closes the door completely, and I crouch there. I allow myself to fall forward and rest my head on the door frame. My breath bleeds. My heartbeat drowns my ears. — Markus Zusak

Undoubtedly the stories about them [hard-boiled detectives] had a fantastic element. Such things happened, but not so rapidly, nor to so close-knit a group of people, nor within so narrow a frame of logic. This was inevitable because the demand was for constant action; if you stopped to think you were lost. When in doubt, have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand. — Raymond Chandler

I turn to see Ansel leaning against the door frame. His eyes swept over the room.
Whoa, Hurricane Naomi strikes, leaving no survivers. — Andrea Cremer

Grain isn't structured like a screen door that you're looking through, but pixels are. Film-based grain is just all over the place, one frame totally different from the next. So your edges are coolly sharp and have a different feeling, an organic feeling rather than this mechanic feeling you get with digital. — Greg MacGillivray

She looked up from the tag. "Uh, news flash. Your friends hate me."
"They don't know you," he said. Opening his door, he climbed out. He turned back, though, and leaned in on the door frame, peering at her. "Besides," he said, "you'd be with me. — Kelly Creagh

Leo backed me against the door frame, his demeanor turning all 'take-no-prisoners' as he pinned me in place with his hips. His hands traced up and down the curve of my body until they wound their way through the loose strands of my hair. He was in control, I was totally at his mercy, and I. Didn't. Even. Care. — Sarah Darlington

What the devil was this story? Douglas pushed open the door to his sitting room, propped one shoulder against the window frame as he opened the plain, prudish cover, and began to read.
By the end of the first page his eyebrows started to rise. By the end of the second, his mouth was hanging open. And when he reached the last page, he no longer cared about Spence's wager or the bounty on Lady Constance's head or what Burke was thinking to let Joan read this.
If Madeline Wilde had written this
even if every word sprang solely out of her imagination and not from her experience
he wanted to get to know her much, much better. — Caroline Linden

They were gone. They'd come for her, but she'd missed them and she was never going to get home again.

When she finally turned toward the door to the apartment once more, she saw that Lucien had dragged himself from the bed. He was braced in the door frame, his dark skin bleached of color. — Kaitlyn O'Connor

She took his hand, fumbled with the door herself. Breathless, she would have stumbled if he hadn't caught her. "Teach me to wear heels in the damn stable," she muttered. "My legs are shaking."
With a nervous laugh she turned back to him. Her legs stopped trembling. At least she couldn't feel them. All she could feel now was the unsteady skipping of her heart.
He was staring at her, his eyes intense. When she'd turned his hands had reached up to frame her face. "You're so beautiful."
She'd never believed words like that mattered. They were so easily, and so often carelessly, said. But they didn't seem easy from him.And there was nothing careless about the tone of his voice. — Nora Roberts

Her fingers flew, her fiddle was an entire orchestra, and every note beautifully brought into being struck a chord of satisfaction within her. She wondered at the unfamiliar lightness in her chest and realised she was laughing.
So great was her focus, it took her a while to register the strange expression that crept to Brocker's face as he listened, finger tapping the armrest of his chair. His eyes were fixed behind Fire and to the right, in the direction of Archer's back doorway. Fire comprehended that someone must be standing in Archer's entrance, someone Brocker watched with startled eyes.
And then everything happened at once. Fire recognised the mind in the doorway; she spun around, fiddle and bow screeching apart; she stared at Prince Brigan leaning against the door frame. — Kristin Cashore

Ronan's bedroom door burst open. Hanging on the door frame, Ronan leaned out to peer past Gansey. He was doing that thing where he looked like both the dangerous Ronan he was now and the cheerier Ronan he had been when Gansey first met him.
"Hold on," Gansey told Adam. Then, to Ronan: "Why would he be?"
"No reason. Just no reason." Ronan slammed his door.
Gansey asked Adam, "Sorry. You still have that suit for the party?"
Adam's response was buried in the sound of the second-story door falling open. Noah slouched in. In a wounded tone, he said, "He threw me out the window!"
Ronan's voice sang out from behind his closed door: "You're already dead! — Maggie Stiefvater

Dont panic, Allison," soothed a low, quiet voice, stopping me from doing just that. I jerked my gaze to the door ... and there he was, standing beside the frame, watching me. "I'm right here. — Julie Kagawa

I had a cousin once who lived in your dictionary, inside the binding, and there was a tiny hole which he used for a door, and it led out between trichotomy and trick. Now what do you think of that? It was only a few minutes walk to trigger, then over the page to trinity, trinket and trional, and there my cousin used to fall asleep. — Janet Frame

... the door banged wide open, and the most striking man I had ever seen stood in the frame, the black winds whipping around him like a chariot of storm clouds. — Heather Heffner

All night I dreamt of bonfires and burn piles
and ghosts of men, and spirits
behind those birds of flame.
I cannot tell anymore when a door opens or closes,
I can only hear the frame saying, Walk through. — Ada Limon

Andrew's kissing Amanda again, her back pinned against the door frame, his hands working through a geometry problem where the goal is to find the point of intersection where two legs bisect. People would like math so much more if it involved real life like that. — Julia Kent

I bit my cheek and tried not to smile. It didn't matter what I threw at the guy; I couldn't shake that darn sunny attitude of his. Worse of all, I was afraid it might be contagious. "Just so I'm prepared ... are all cowboys like you?" I asked, stepping up into Old Bessie.
Jessie stepped between the door and me before I could close it. His body took up almost the entire door frame. "There's no other cowboy like me," he said with a smile. — Nicole Williams

As always, there are exceptions. Adults with training can still learn to distinguish speech sounds in other languages. But in general, the brain appears to have a limited window of opportunity in an astonishingly early time frame. The cognitive door begins swinging shut at 6 months old, and then, unless something pushes against it, the door closes. By 12 months, your baby's brain has made decisions that affect her the rest of her life. — John Medina

What are you doing, shaving every hair individually?" Alex appeared in the bathroom doorway. "My grandmother could get ready faster than you." She leaned a shoulder on the door frame and crossed her arms, one corner of her mouth lifted in an indulgent smile.

Mitch returned her smile in the mirror as he wiped his jaw with a wet cloth. "This kind of perfection doesn't happen all by itself, you know. — Jillian Burns

The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door! — Emma Lazarus

I walked up the ramp and stood in the van, trying to decide where to begin my inspection of the concealed words whose bones were molded together by men to make either an awesome vision of truth that would guard any door of the mind, or a creature that would stand for a while, deceptively whole, then collapse, scattering across the threshold the dry dead bones that did not even burst into flame at their friction one with the other. — Janet Frame

His sister, in a big turquoise Angora sweater, leaned upon the wood frame of the open nursery door, anxiously looking out to see if he was really going to show, beaming and waving like a pastel colored TV Muppet when she spotted him. — Alan Moore

The door partly opens, and Deacon rests his hip on the frame and looks me up and down as if he has no idea who I am. He's wearing gray sweatpants with CORVALLIS UNION HIGH SCHOOL printed up the leg, his hair all askew. He's shirtless, whether for effect or for comfort I'm not sure. — Suzanne Young

I'm not there, she thought. I'm not there. I'm nowhere. She felt the world go dark with sudden exclusion and she was beating her wings against the door of the dark but no one opened the door; indeed, no one heard. — Janet Frame

Honestly, Evie," I huffed, flopping back to the centre of my bed and glaring at the ceiling. "Why don't you whine some more instead of actually doing anything?"
"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," Arianna volunteered, leaning on the frame of my open door.
"Yeah, so's seeing things no one else can, but people seem to like that about me."
"Good point. Odds are, you've been crazy for years now. I'm probably nothing more than a figment of your imagination."
"If that were true, I'd imagine you as less of a slob."
She sighed. "Isn't it sad that you hate yourself so much you can't even dream up a pleasant roommate?"
"Not as sad as the fact that you admit how bad you suck as one."
Flashing a wicked grin, she narrowed her eyes. " I'd use the term 'suck' sparingly around me. Don't want to go planting ideas in my pretty, dead head."
I threw a pillow at her. — Kiersten White

Traditional Chinese art looked at the Earth from a Confucian mountain top; Japanese art looked closely around screens; Italian Renaissance art surveyed conquered nature through the window or door-frame of a palace. For the Cro-Magnons, space is a metaphysical arena of continually intermittent appearances and disappearances. — John Berger

The senior wizards of Unseen University stood and looked at the door.
There was no doubt that whoever had shut it wanted it to stay shut. Dozens of nails secured it to the door frame. Planks had been nailed right across. And finally it had, up until this morning, been hidden by a bookcase that had been put in front of it.
'And there's the sign, Ridcully,' said the Dean. 'You have read it, I assume. You know? The sign which says "Do not, under any circumstances, open this door"?'
'Of course I've read it,' said Ridcully. 'Why d'yer think I want it opened?'
'Er ... why?' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
'To see why they wanted it shut, of course.'
This exchange contains almost all you need to know about human civilization. At least, those bits of it that are now under the sea, fenced off or still smoking. — Terry Pratchett

A brick could be used as a frame for a door, and the blanket could be used as the door. — Nicole McKay

What's got you smilin' like a bitch who just had good cock?" I was interrupted by a sexy drawl.
I looked up to see Nash leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of him, sexy smirk plastered on his face. He was tall, all muscle and ink; he exuded a couldn't-give-a-fuck attitude. Nash was one of the cockiest men I had ever met and the women flocked to him.
I rolled my eyes. "Can a woman not smile unless she's had cock?" I asked.
He uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the door frame; coming towards me, "No, sweet thing, it all comes down to cock."
"Well, I hate to tell you, Nash, but this woman hasn't had any today, and yet I am still smiling. I think your theory is a little off." I loved bantering back and forth with him.
He raised his eyebrows. "J's fallin' down on the job there sweetheart. You sure you don't want to jump ships? I've got all you'll ever need," he grinned at me, opening his arms wide in an inviting gesture. — Nina Levine

Cam backed toward the door, arms still raised. He tapped the top of the door frame. "Guess what?"
"What?"
A slight grinned appeared. "My bedroom is right across the hall."
My tummy tumbled. "Okay."
The grin spread, turning wicked. "Just thought you'd be happy to hear that. — J. Lynn

As he approached Dillon's door, Gavin ducked his towering six foot three inch frame in an attempt to see below mini-blinds covering up half the glass. Gavin's eyes landed on Dillon's back. He stood in front of his desk, his arms crossed. In one swift motion, Gavin swung open the door and closed it. In another, he twisted the lock, sealing them off from anyone who might try to enter.
Let the motherfucking games begin.

McHugh, Gail (2013-09-17). Pulse: Book Two in the Collide Series (Kindle Locations 1912-1915). Atria Books. Kindle Edition. — Gail McHugh

It was a few seconds before Cinder found her voice and she had to grip the door frame to keep standing.
"Thorne?"
His head jerked around. "Cinder?"
"Wh - what are you - how? Where have you been? What's going on? Why are you wearing that stupid bandanna?"
He laughed. Gripping a wooden cane, he stumbled toward her, waving one hand until it landed on her shoulder. Then he was hugging her, suffocating her against his chest. "I missed you too."
"You jerk," she hissed, even as she returned the hug. "We thought you were dead!"
"Oh, please. It'd take a lot more than a satellite plummeting to Earth to kill me. Although, admittedly, Cress may have saved us that time. — Marissa Meyer

I could have forgiven you, you know, " I say. "For trying to kill me during initiation. I probably could have."
We are both quiet for a while. I don't know why I told him that. Maybe just because it's true, and tonight, of all nights, is the time for honesty. Tonight I will be honest, and selfless, and brave. Divergent.
"I never asked you to, he says, and turns to leave. But then he stops at the door frame and says, "It's 9:24. — Veronica Roth

Give me a minute to get dressed."
"You're not dressed?"
I smiled in spite of myself at the lighthearted quility of his jest. Until my broken door began to move. "Jace!" I shouted, trying to keep from laughing as I vaulted off the bed and scrambled to stop him. He wasn't seriously trying to sneak a peek; if he had been, he wouldn't have made any noise. But if I let him get away with a joke today, he'd try it for real tomorrow.
Jace yelped as I ripped the door from his grasp and leaned it against the frame. Then he sulked, his eyes roaming just far enough south to see my tank top and shorts. "Liar!" he accused, the smile in his eyes ruining his pout. "You're not naked."
"I meant I wanted to change."
He grinned. "So, go ahead."
"Nice try. — Rachel Vincent