When I was a child and came with my elders to Galway for their salmon fishing in the river that rushes past the gaol, I used to look with awe at the window where men were hung, and the dark, closed gate.
A lot of people assume that creating software is purely a solitary activity where you sit in an office with the door closed all day and write lots of code.
The gates of heaven surely are closed to those who decline to oppose totalitarianism with all their might.
They had entered the thorny wilderness, and the golden gates of their childhood had for ever closed behind them.
I fell in love once, if love be that cruelty which takes us straight to the gates of Paradise only to remind us they are closed for ever.
I thank God for Closed Doors
Bill Gates is a very rich man today... and do you want to know why? The answer is one word: versions.