Quotes About Heat

Do ye often howl at wolves? Only Lovey, Claray answered. He's the only wolf I ken. Ye ken Conall, and he's the Wolf. Aye, Conall agreed aloud, and then leaned down to whisper by her ear, And ye howled for me on our weddin' night. Hopefully this night I can make ye howl again. Finally. Claray stiffened in surprise and then felt heat suffuse her face as his hand crept up her waist where it was resting, and his thumb brushed over the bottom of one breast.

It is hot, the light is strong and I have an extraordinary sense of clarity, although quite what is clear I cannot express.

Outside, a dog sprawls among the empty tables, its body rocking with the evening heat. Someone has given it a hamburger which first it guards, then, eventually, eats. It's some kind of winter dog, a malamute perhaps, a dog of marvellous subtle greys and whites. Also of transparent intelligence, and less transparent motive. The beauty of an animal like this appears to fix it in our expectations. But while its beauty says one thing, its heart may say another.

It seemed that a woman should remember the night a new life began inside her. Such a miracle should not be the result of routine or an ordinary coming together. Life should begin in a cataclysm of heat and fury bathed in the sweat of passion and urgency.

Ironically, even the torrent of media coverage figured as an additional reason, creating a kind of scandal fatigue as allegations surfaced, often in the form of anonymous leaks, and were initially spun by an administration under intense political heat, then dismissed as "old news" when later confirmed by hard evidence.

What does the pale ring around the moon portend? Usually it heralds a khamsin. Tomorrow, no doubt, the heat will return. It is May, and June will follow. A wind drifts among the cypresses in the night, trying to comfort them between one heat wave and the next. It is the way of the wind to come and to go and to come again. There is nothing new.

Please understand I am in full rebellion against my own mind, that when I live, I live by impulse, by emotion, by white heat.

He held his steaming hands towards her, and she said, You are the god of fire

Henry's daily and continuous flow of life, his sexual activity, his talks with everyone, his café life, his conversations with people in the street, which I once considered an interruption to writing, I now believe to be a quality which distinguishes him from other writers. He never writes in cold blood: he is always writing in white heat.

She has to make the atmosphere boil.

I take on the dullness of the landscape, the torpid heat of the day, the barren vista of rocks, the anonymous stream of humanity that sluices back and forth through city after city endlessly and ceaselessly. I am protean, to the point of disease.

On the hottest days you could smell the wood from the lumberyard on the other side of Water Street, the piss and shit of the drunks in the weeds, the engine exhaust, the sweet lead of the paint flaking off our clapboards.

Surely the sun is already hammering the beach like a tinsmith.

All the picketers look bored and hot and like they

rooms, easy to heat. Now there was one L-shaped open-plan

ADVENTINE  (ADVE'NTINE)   adj.[from advenio, adventum.]Adventitious; that which is extrinsically added; that which comes from outward causes: a word scarcely in use. As for the peregrine heat, it is thus far true, that, if the proportion of the adventine heat be greatly predominant to the natural heat and spirits of the body, it tendeth to dissolution or notable alteration.Bacon'sNatural History,No 836.

ALMOND-FURNACE  (A'LMOND-FURNACE)    or A'LMAN-FURNACE, called also the Sweep, is a peculiar kind of furnace used in refining, to separate metals from cinders and other foreign substances.Chambers.

have cost precious time. He'd kept moving. It was insufferably hot and sultry. Sweat had

It's funny how one summer can change everything. It must be something about the heat and the smell of chlorine, fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle, asphalt sizzling after late-day thunderstorms, the steam rising while everything drips around it. Something about long, lazy days and whirring air conditioners and bright plastic flip-flops from the drugstore thwacking down the street. Something about fall being so close, another year, another Christmas, another beginning.

Professor Winthrop delivered an influential lecture at Harvard proposing the earthquake might have been caused by heat and pressure below the surface of the earth. With God's help, of course, but God comes off as an engineer instead of a hothead vigilante.)

We took the coal-and-ice dealers into taverns and drank beer and swapped talk, in those sleepy and dark with heat joints where the very flies crept rather than flew, seeming doped by the urinal camphors and malt sourness, and from the heated emptiness and woodblock-knocking of the baseball broadcast that gave only more constriction to the unlocatable, undiagnosed wrong.

began to be aware of the tremble of insects as they played their instruments underneath the stems, down at the very base of the heat.

Action comes from keeping the heat on. No politician can sit on a hot issue if you make it hot enough.

Although he was a northern creature, more comfortable with dark and cold than light and heat, he had long since passed the annual point of weariness with the elements, and yearned to see expanses of earth and grass unsullied by patches of grim ice.