Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Enclosed. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Enclosed Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Milan Kundera,Mehmet Murat Ildan,Lynn Red,Ralph Waldo Emerson,Arthur Conan Doyle for you to enjoy and share.
The body was a cage, and inside that cage was something which looked, listened, feared, thought and marveled; that something, that remainder left over after the body had been accounted for, was the soul.
Without curiosity, all doors remain closed!
into my tightest place
In a library we are surrounded by many hundreds of dear friends imprisoned by an enchanter in paper and leathern boxes.
Have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask. This is indeed a mystery,
Where the truth remains hidden from the outside, the inside imprisons the hidden.
You are encircled by the arms of the mystery of God.
Bound, elbow to elbow, darkness and night entered the dwelling.
Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner
what is it?
if not the intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming.
One, with fixed blinds inserted, in place of upper panels. The isolated subterraneousness of the cabin made a certain humming silence to reign there, though it was hooped round by all the roar of the elements. The loaded muskets in the rack were shiningly revealed,
open me carefully
This life will be a cage for you.
It was a privileged existence, but also a cage, beautifully decorated, but locked tight always.
This is the Torture Room. But don't let the name fool you. This is a tent, not a room.
What surrounds us is what is within us.
Big F took out a small box, unwrapped
Surrounded by darkness yet enfolded in light
Unless you realize that there is a sun beyond comprehension of this limited mind ... the life shall remain confined within a Box ...
Within perfect walls there is nothing worth protecting.
There is, in fact, nothing.
And so we exchange privacy for intimacy.
Nothing is more incendiary to an ill-advised, unanticipated tryst than to be enclosed in a darkened, plush-upholstered, moving chamber. Privacy, Intimacy, Darkness, Transience: the Four Whorsemen of the Apocalypse.
My life felt so cluttered and obstructed that I could hardly breathe. I inhabited a closed, concentrated world, airless and without exits.
There is a solitude of space.
A solitude of sea. A solitude of death, but these societies shall be compared with that profounder site-that polar privacy. A soul admitted to itself
Finite infinity.
So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.
(Initiation)
The box was a universe, a poem, frozen on the boundaries of human experience.
What remains is solitude.
For a second something deep and old rises inside me and I could fall on the ground and weep for joy, or open up my arms and spin. After being enclosed for so long, I want to drink in all the space, all the bright, empty air stretching around me on all sides.
Whatever is contained must be released.
Once I was free; there was no cage that could bind me, and I had yet to create my box of numbness within my mind to be my silent protector.
This body is a tent which for a space Does the pure soul with kingly presence grace; When he departs, comes the tent-pitcher, Death, Strikes it, and moves to a new halting-place.
Where there is cage, there is no affection, there is only torture!
If you had to hide me amidst your thoughts, where would you hide me ? Promise me you would put me somewhere beautiful, where i can hide quietly forever ?
What sort of space is that which separates a man from his fellows and makes him solitary?
Enclosed within the tyranny of our minds and there is where we are lost.
But the condition of wife had enclosed her in a sort of glass container, like a sailboat sailing with sails unfurled in an inaccessible place, without the sea.
Even the most open person has a private, sacred place where no one else may go.
corner, an empty shell that is merely
The walls that caged me were not of this world, but were within my mind.
It has provided not only physical but also psychological sanctuary. It has been a guardian of identity. Over the years, its owners have returned from periods away and, on looking around them, remembered who they were.
A tormented soul; forever trapped in the recesses of my mind; eternally locked in a morbid paradise.
Beyond the window was the parking lot and beyond that the desert, and beyond that the sky, mostly void, partially stars. Layered
You are like a lantern swathed and covered, hidden away in a dark place. Yet the light shines; they could not put out the light. They could not hide you.
The box is only temporary.
The closure of the book is an illusion largely created by its materiality, its cover. Once the book is considered on the plane of its significance, it threatens infinity.
There is a darkened corridor, forgotten by the sun, shrouded in shadow and transgression.
And all the shelves rising up around her like book-lined walls of a fortress, safe in here, always safe in here from the world, guarded by books and all the secrets inside them, all the things hardly anyone else will ever care to learn.
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
Between a book's covers there may be passion, bile, mayhem, or murder, but in the quiet spaces where it awaits its fate (either acceptance of indifference) all is calm.
Up there, up there in the vastness of space, in the void that is sky, up there is an enemy known as isolation. It sits there in the stars waiting, waiting with the patience of eons, forever waiting in the Twilight Zone.
like a small room. Like a
( ... ) unkept secrets always manage to escape, under a door, through a keyhole or an open window, until everyon knows everything and nobody knows how ... ( ... )
Within you, there is a stillness and a sanctuary to which you can retreat at anytime and be yourself.
A sealed book, at whose contents we tremble.
Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
I am isolated. I sit in a glass ball, I see people through a glass wall. I scream, but they do not hear me.
- Ellen West
I want to unfold. Let no place in me hold itself closed, for where I am closed, I am false ...
Confined environment does not mean confined
mind-set.
Surroundedness does not come free along with, say, a membrane marking the boundary between the organism and the rest of the material world any more than it comes free with an entity such as a pebble that has a continuous surface marking its limits.
This was, I would later realise, a planet of things wrapped inside things. Food inside wrappers. Bodies inside clothes. Contempt inside smiles. Everything was hidden away.
Behind your image, below your words, above your thoughts, the silence of another world waits.
A man's thinking goes on within his consciousness in a seclusion in comparison with which any physical seclusion is an exhibition to public view.
The secret prayer chamber is a bloody battleground. Here violent and decisive battles are fought out. Here the fate of
souls for time and eternity is determined, in quietude and
solitude.
The airy sky has taken its place leaning against the wall. It is like a prayer to what is empty And what is empty turns its face to us and whispers: 'I am not empty, I am open'.
When you are unconditionally open and soft in your heart while your self empties and while your self fills, you live fulfilling the law of containment.
bottle of boxed wine
I don't like cages,
Keep it locked up inside
Don't talk about it
Talk about the weather
Can't see the light
The prisoners for better security against conversation shall have a canvas bag put over the head of each and tied around the neck, with a holes for proper breathing and eating, but not seeing.
So the self under the eye lies,
Attendant and withdrawn.
It is nothing won to admit men with an open door, and to receive them with a shut and reserved countenance.
Deep blackness waits outside;
a veiled inferno it attempts to hide.
We see no more than dark clouds growing,
but set inside, a fire is glowing.
But underneath it there was not a sound, there was nothing that even whimpered or budged in our tunnel and it seemed Harry and me were tightly sealed inside something, like two secret letters lying next to each other in an envelope.
An individual is an encloser. Time and space, liberty and necessity, truth and thought, are left at large no longer.
In spaces too small for light
to crawl I'll hide everything I own.
I'll keep you there for safety.
I'll build a shelter for your
fears. I'll be your own
suicide bomber, a
satellite in the
dwindling
orbits, a
mortal
Om.
In a way it doesn't matter whether you open doors or close them, you still end up in a box.
All great experience has a guarded entrance and a windowless facade.
The 9th chamber, leave you trapped inside my hallway
You try to flee but you got smoked up by the doorway (blaow! blaow! blaow!)
No question, I send your ass back, right to the essence
Your whole frame is smothered in dirt, now how you restin
You sit beside the sorcerer, your love, and unzip your ribs. Tucked under your heart is a small oak box, plain and unvarnished. You offer it to the sorcerer. 'I brought this for you.
In my integrity I'll wrap me up.
Solitude is a courageous encounter with our naked, most raw and real self, in the presence of pure love.
a deep smothering emptiness
the silent space around a secret is shattered, it cannot be made whole again. The
A place to keep all your secrets
Somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence; in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
Lovely. Imprisoned in a nursery school dungeon.
The late afternoon sun, trapped beneath a wall of pewter, stained the clouds a yellowish gray, making the sky unusually bright. It felt surreal, as if the horizon had disappeared beyond the hills. She was stranded in a world of glass.
Above us our palace waits, the only one I've ever needed. Its walls are space, its floor is sky, its center everywhere. We rise; the shapes cluster around us in welcome, dissolving and forming again like fireflies in a summer evening.
The past is a closed door.
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space.
I feel as exposed as a sweatshirt worn wrong-side-out, or like pocket linings dangling outside of a pair of jeans. My heart, my hope, hang in the afternoon sun.
Below me, inside me, there's a pit that's dark and comforting and quite completely insane. If I sink into it, I can be free of all torture.
And suddenly solitude fell across his heart like a dusty reflection. He closed his eyes. The dark doors within him opened and he entered. The next performance in the theater of Grenouille's soul was beginning.
My thatched hut;
the whole sky Is its roof
The mountains are its hedge,
And it has the sea for a garden.
I'm inside with nothing at all,
Not even a bag,
And yet there are visitors who say "
It's hidden behind a bamboo door"
- Muso Soseki
Inside a home you left me, a blue orphanage.
Inside a bluish mosaic, space to live.
Trapped in a trap of your own making.
preferably left buried in
And I think, What's the opposite of suffocation?
Let us be as the Cage has never been able to make us. Let us now all at once face forward in our boxes, still and silent as nightmares.
We did.
Hide nothing, for time, which sees all and hears all, exposes all.
Within the bowels of these elements, where we are tortured and remain for ever, The Labyrinth hath no limits, nor is circumscribed in one self place; for where we are is the Labyrinth, and where the Labyrinth is, there must we ever be. Hoo.
I made myself into an envelope into which I could thrust my work deep, lick the flap, seal it from everybody.