“Next time," I said wryly, swinging open the door, "just give me a knife and ask for a vein.”

“Maybe next time we just open the door and start out with some bitch slapping.”

“I wish someone would dare reproach me about the whole thing so that I could run a dagger through his heart. If only I could see blood. I know I would feel better. Oh, I have picked up a knife a hundred times with the intention of plunging it into my own heart! I have heard tell of a noble breed of stallions who when they are overheated and run wild, instinctively bite open one of their veins to relieve themselves. I feel like that often. I would like to open the vein that would give me eternal freedom.”

“Just then the door flew open, and Ambrose burst through, yelling like a madman and swinging a battle-ax in one hand.”

“But how will I get out?" And all at once the door was open--and there was Seldon and behind him his mother. "How'd you do that?" I said. "I opened the door," he said. "But how?" He shrugged. "I pushed. I just pushed. It was open all the time." And that was when I began to bawl and Mrs. Wishnow took me in her arms and said, "That's okay. Things like this happen. They can happen to anyone.”

“Give me open hands and open doors.”