T Quotes
Browse famous quotes beginning with T. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.
“The donut dunked herself in coffee
But burnt herself in the process
And despite the scars she bore
She was delicious anyways”
Source: Atomic Kiss
“The Doobie Brothers' 'What a Fool Believes' makes me want to move. And I still haven't gotten over the Macarena. Who has?”
“The doom lies in yourself, not in your name.”
“The doom of a nation can be averted only by a storm of flowing passion, but only those who are passionate themselves can arouse passion in others.”
“The doom of destruction is the snare of sin.”
“The doom reserved for enemies
marches on the ones we love the most.”
Source: Antigone
“The Doomsayers have always had their uses, since they trigger the coping mechanism that often prevents the events they forecast.”
“The door available to everyone that can lead to happiness & success is the modest door of the public library. I found it to be so in my own life and work.”
“The door banged open, and Eve rushed out, flushed and mussed and still buttoning her shirt. 'It's not what you think,' she said. 'It was just—oh, okay, whatever, it was exactly what you think. Now, what?”
Source: Lord of Misrule
“The door banged open and Eve rushed out, flushed and mussed and still buttoning her shirt. "It's not what you think." She said. "It was just - oh OK, whatever, it was exactly what you think. Now WHAT?”
Source: Lord of Misrule: The Morganville Vampires
“The door burst open. Murphy came through it, her eyes living flames of azure blue, her hair a golden coronet around her. She held a blazing sword in her hand and she shone so bright and beautiful and terrifying in her anger that it was hard to see. The Sight, I realized, dimly. I was seeing her for who she was.”
Source: The Dresden Files Collection 1-6
“The door buzzer sounded again. The two boys exchanged a single look before both bolting down the narrow hallway to the door. Jordan got there first. He grabbed for the coatrack that stood by the door, ripped the coats off it, and flung the door wide, the rack held aboe his head like a javelin.
On the other side of the door was Jace. He blinked. "Is that a coatrack?"
Jordan slammed the coatrack down on the ground and sighed. "If you'd been a vampire, this would have been a lot more useful."
"Yes," said Jace. "Or, you know, just someone with a lot of coats.”
Source: City of Fallen Angels
“The door can never be closed for good to any player.”
“The door clicked. She inhaled a tiny gasp.
"You should use the deadbolt."
"I was expecting you," she said.
"I was afraid you might change your mind."
"No, Reid. I haven't changed my mind. No games, right?"
His hot gaze raked slowly up and down her body. He doffed his hat and tossed it on the chair. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Haley Cooper. His voice was low and husky, inciting tiny ripples deep inside her sex. He was in tight control, but his desire was palpable, like some powerful force that was about to unleash. He extended his hand.
She approached with an intentional slow and seductive sway of her hips, shivering again as their gazes met and held. Oh dear God. All the foreplay she needed was right there, reflected in his blue eyes.”
Source: Sharp Shootin' Cowboy
“The door closed and darkness claimed the room.”
Source: The Xactilias Project
“The door closed behind her (Phoebe), and the two men regarded each other for a moment. Viktor spoke first. "I must have your promise, Coach, that you won't hurt her." Dan: "I won't." Viktor: "You spoke a little too quickly for my taste. I don't quite believe you." Dan: "I'm a man of my word, and I promise I won't hurt her." He flexed his hands. "When I murder her, I'll do it real quick so she won't feel a thing." Viktor sighed. "That's exactly what I was afraid of.”
“The door could not be heard slamming; they had probably left it open, as is the custom in homes where a great misfortune has occurred.”
Source: The Metamorphosis
“The door exploded inward and a tangle of bug legs appeared.
“I can hold them, but I can’t kill them all,” Caine shouted.
“Yeah. They’re hard to kill. You got a plan?”
Caine bit savagely at his thumb, worrying the cuticle. They were surrounded. The very walls were being battered. The windows were all smashed. They couldn’t fit through the door but they would soon make it wide enough.
They stood, Caine and Brianna, in the kitchen, the center of the house, as far as possible from the windows, but now the bugs had their mandibles shoved in through the doors and windows, questing, slicing the air, their ropelike tongues lashing madly.
The entire house was like a drum pounded by dozens of drumsticks.
“You know, I’m kind of disappointed,” Brianna said. “Situation like this? Sam would come up with a plan.”
Source: Plague
“The door fear guards often leads to your greatest breakthrough.”
“The door flung open, and the President's daughter burst into the room. 'Daddy!' she cried, unfazed by his lack of pants.”
Source: Monsters in a Mirror: Strange Tales from the Chapel Perilous
“The door handle is the handshake of the building.”
Source: The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Senses
“The door he was looking for lay flat and singed in the ash. It sang to him in a way it never had before. As if it knew the words that came after the end.”
Source: The Dream Maker
“The Door Inside
Break the door again, beloved,
until splinters learn to sing.
Let every lock fall back to silence,
every hinge confess its rust.
Shatter the shell of certainty
until only breath remains—
soft, luminous,
willing to be remade.
Do not fear the ache;
each crack is a lantern.
The wound is where
the dawn keeps its key.
Keep breaking,
not to destroy
but to release
the sky you carry within.”
Source: Lovemance: A Manifesto of Transformative Love and Spiritual Feminist Literature
“The door is ajar. The door is not a jar.”
Source: Whenever you're here, I'm there for you
“The door is always open for you. You just need to open your mind and walk into the heaven of love.”
Source: Peace Bliss Beauty and Truth: Living with Positivity
“The door is closed to prayer unless it is opened with the key of trust.”
“The door is cracked
We used to meet
like water does land
no
not that
more like when skin touches skin
kissing fingertips
or when air escapes a lung
and is felt across the world
I've leapt over cracks in sidewalks
and swallowed away troublesome back pains
that could only be fixed with someone else's pills
We met by your house one stray day
and you drove me to the bay
where we sat and kissed like it was yesterday
And here you told me that you loved me
and that you always loved me
and that you would always love me
the wind blew and I held you
You rested your head on my shoulder
and the wind blew warm
Later, in your big red truck, we smoked some green
and I kissed you harder
and held your breasts, and felt between your legs
and with a gasp
you told me you were in love with me
And then you drove me back
and we promised it wouldn't be the end
not this time
The quill and inkwell on your foot
I'm a writer and you are my greatest art
I returned to my hell and dreamt of you once more”
Source: Strange Rainfall on the Rooftops of People Watchers: Poems and Stories
“The door knocker's a knocking fist, or it's meant to be, but it makes him think of a punch in the gob.”
Source: A Particular Man
“The door leading back to that summer has been slammed shut; you've made sure of that. But that means that the way is also closed that might have led back to the time before. There is no way back to the world before the torture. No way back to the world before the massacre.”
Source: Human Acts
“The door might not be opened to a woman again for a long, long time, and I had a kind of duty to other women to walk in and sit down on the chair that was offered, and so establish the right of others long hence and far distant in geography to sit in the high seats.”
“The door of a bigoted mind opens outwards so that the only result of the pressure of facts upon it is to close it more snugly.”
Source: Good intentions
“The door of conciliation and compromise is finally closed by our adversaries, and it remains only to us to meet the conflict with the dignity and firmness of men worthy of freedom.”
“The door of God’s mercy is thrown wide open, and Christ stands in the door and says to sinners ‘Come.’”
“The door of illumination is open to those for whom other doors are closed.”
Source: The Commanding Self
“The Door of No Return - real and metaphoric as some places are, mythic to those of us who are scattered in the Americas today. To have one’s belonging lodged in a metaphor is voluptuous intrigue; to inhabit a trope; to be a kind of fiction. To live in the Black Diaspora I think is to live in a fiction - a creation of empires, and also self-creation. It is to be being living inside and outside herself. It is to apprehend the the sign one makes yet to be unable to escape it except in radiant moments of ordinariness made like art. To be a fiction in search of its most resonant metaphor then is even more intriguing.”
Source: A Map to the Door of No Return
“The door of opportunity swings wide open in our country. Through it, in constant flow, go those who toil. America recognizes no aristocracy save those who work. The badge of service is the sole requirement for admission to the ranks of our nobility.”
“The door of the bar opened, showing him a momentary oblong of true daylight, blankly white. A woman entered. He couldn't see her face as she crossed to the bar in front of the window, but he could see, drawn with exactitude by the light behind her, her legs within a summery white dress. When young he had supposed, without giving it much thought, that women didn't realize that sun behind them revealed them in this way; now he supposes that of course they must, and thinks about it. ("Novelty")”
Source: American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940s to Now
“The door of the Free Exercise Clause stands tightly closed against any government regulation of religious beliefs as such. Government may neither compel affirmation of a repugnant belief, nor penalize or discriminate against individuals or groups because they hold views abhorrent to the authorities.”
“The door of the human heart, can only be opened from the inside.”
“The door of the novel, like the door of the poem, also shuts. But not so fast, nor with such manic, unanswerable finality.”
Source: Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams
“The door of the visible church is incomparably wider than the door of heaven (522)[.]”
Source: The Saints' Everlasting Rest
“The door of their hearts cracked wide open, wide enough for the river to flow in and climb to the crown of their heads.”
Source: Burn Down Master's House
“The door of true knowledge will opento the light”
“The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last.”
Source: Weight of Glory
“The door opened after a few moments. Sherlock was looking slightly upwards, expecting Amyus Crowe to be standing inside the doorway, and for a moment he was confused by the empty space. His gaze droped, and he felt his heart stutter as it came to rest on the face of a girl at the same level as his own. Her cloths were dark, and in the shadows of the hall her face seemed to be floating in mid-air.”
Source: Death Cloud
“The door opened. I stopped. Beyond it, orks lined both sides of the corridor. They had been watching for me. The moment I appeared, they roared their approval. They did not attack. They simply stood, clashed guns against blades, and hooted brute enthusiasm. I had been subjected to too many celebratory parades on Armageddon not to recognise one when it confronted me. I went numb from the unreality before me. I stepped forward, though. I had no choice.
I walked. It was the most obscene victory march of my life. I moved through corridor, hold and bay, and the massed ranks of the greenskins hailed my passage. I saw the evidence of the destruction I had caused around every bend. Scorch marks, patched ruptures, buckled flooring, collapsed ceilings. But it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. Only enough for this… this…
At length, I arrived at a launch bay. There was a ship on the pad before the door. It was human, a small in-system shuttle. It was not built for long voyages. No matter, as long as its vox-system was still operative.
I knew that it would be.
Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka awaited me beside the ship’s access ramp. I did not let my confusion or the sense that I had slipped into an endless waking nightmare slow my stride. I did not hesitate as I strode towards the monster. I stopped before him. I met his gaze with all the cold hatred of my soul. He radiated delight. Then he leaned forward, a colossus of armour and bestial strength. Our faces were mere centimetres apart.
My soul bears many scars from the days and months of my defeat and captivity. But there is one memory that, above all others, haunts me. By day, it is a goad to action. By night, it murders sleep. It lives with me always, the proof that there could hardly be a more terrible threat to the Imperium than this ork.
Thraka spoke to me.
Not in orkish. Not even in Low Gothic.
In High Gothic.
‘A great fight,’ he said. He extended a huge, clawed finger and tapped me once on the chest. ‘My best enemy.’ He stepped aside and gestured to the ramp. ‘Go to Armageddon,’ he said. ‘Make ready for the greatest fight.’
I entered the ship, my being marked by words whose full measure of horror lay not in their content, but in the fact of their existence. I stumbled to the cockpit, and discovered that I had a pilot.
It was Commander Rogge. His mouth was parted in a scream, but there was no sound. He had no vocal cords any longer. There was very little of his body recognisable. He had been opened up, reorganised, fused with the ship’s control and guidance systems. He had been transformed into a fully aware servitor.
‘Take us out of here,’ I ordered.
The rumble of the ship’s engines powering up was drowned by the even greater roar of the orks. I knew that roar for what it was: the promise of war beyond description.”
Source: Yarrick: The Omnibus
“The door opened slightly. He did not hear any screaming, which made him think he might be correct. What if they were dead?”
Source: The Manhattanville Incident: An Undead Novel
“The door opened to reveal Odran on the other side. His hair was slightly tousled and he still looked half asleep, blinking rapidly as he looked down at her.
"Well," he said. "This is a surprise. Is this a personal or professional visit?"
"Professional." She held up her hand with a tentative smile. "I'm afraid I require your services."
He leaned against the door frame, flashing her a smile that reminded her far too much of Niall.
"Why, Ciara," he said, "if you wanted to see me that badly, all you had to do was ask.”
Source: The Betrayer: Tales of Pern Coen
“The door opened.
"We're here," said Mrs. Rogers.
Aunt Myra came in.
"Now!" said Amelia Bedelia.
"Greetings, greetings, greetings,"
said the three children.
"What's that about?" said Mrs. Rogers.
"You said to greet Aunt Myra with Carols," said Amelia Bedelia.
"Here's Carol Lee, Carol Green, and Carol Lake."
"What lovely Carols," said Aunt Myra.
"Thank you.”
Source: Merry Christmas, Amelia Bedelia
“The door opened with a creak, admitting a draft that stirred the air without refreshing it. The woman who entered was tall, commanding the space without effort, her presence a disruption in the grey uniformity. Long, coppery hair fell in rich, wavy cascades, textured as if tended with care from a bygone era; drowned in treatments and rich oils, evoking old TikTok reels of effortless glamour, a relic of abundance. Her lips were a vivid red, bold against the pallor of the day, and her eyes gleamed green, sharp with intent. She scanned the room once, then approached Nia's table, her movements fluid, accented by the subtle click of boots on worn tile and hugged her...
... Colonel Yelena Kuznetsova smelled nice, a fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood that evoked women before the war, polished and unscarred. Like a glitch in the matrix, a type of person that didn't exist anymore: curated, soft, vibrant, untarnished by the grind. And there Nia was, dark brown hair hanging lifelessly over her shoulders in messy cascades, grown out without trimming from a close shave that spoke of practicality over vanity; dressed in the same orange hoodie and leather jacket worn most of the time, smelling of coffee, rust, and ink. Her eyes were pale blue and tired, undereye bags taking more space than brows and eyes together, and her lips had not seen a Chapstick in a while, cracked from the persistent chill and humidity.”
Source: The Crack