Quotes About Heat

For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

al pobre y al caliente los delata la prisa.

I love Canada. I miss the heat of India, the food, the house lizards on the walls, the musicals on the silver screen, the cows wandering on the streets, the crows cawing, even the talk of cricket matches, but I love Canada. It's a country much too cold for good sense, inhabited by compassionate, intelligent people with bad hairdos.

That's the natural response for all running mammals; when they build up more heat in their bodies than they can puff out their mouths, they have to stop, or they die.

if you can run six miles on a summer day then you, my friend, are a lethal weapon in the animal kingdom. We can dump heat on the run, but animals can't pant while they gallop.

If you keep just close enough for it to see you, it will keep sprinting away. After about ten or fifteen kilometers' worth of running, it will go into hyperthermia and collapse." Translation: if you can run six miles on a summer day then you, my friend, are a lethal weapon in the animal kingdom.

The vibration of the heat was like the vibration of a sung oratorio. Only my hearing part was feeling. Closed-mouth canticle, sound vibrating deaf like something imprisoned and contained, amen, amen. Canticle of thanksgiving for the murder of one being by another being.

The heat compounded, and ugliness settled its cloud over us, profound as human speech, although by then we were not speaking.

How did Biot arrive at the partial differential equation? [the heat conduction equation] . . . Perhaps Laplace gave Biot the equation and left him to sink or swim for a few years in trying to derive it. That would have been merely an instance of the way great mathematicians since the very beginnings of mathematical research have effortlessly maintained their superiority over ordinary mortals.

Like the temperature of a fireplace, everything on earth is dependent on the temperature.

There's hate in the word earth. But the art, heart and heat of man's compassion can never be replaced by hate.

Hitting the first molecules of the upper atmosphere created friction that merely warmed the rod. The lower it fell, the more the heat built, until the entire length of the rod glowed red then yellow, and, finally, a brilliant white.

I love Paris in the summer, when it sizzles.

IT WAS LIKE RIDING INTO THE BLAST OF A HAIR-DRYER SET ON HOT.

IT WAS THE TYPE OF DAY THAT COULD WILT A METAL GATEPOST.

about these matters. One read that people abroad did frequently get emotional and kill each other. Probably the heat. Miss Seeton stepped aside to avoid a pile of crates. She peered at them. Seville oranges. How interesting. Spain. Such

Told me if I did not smell of the fire then I smelled of the frying pan.

You feel nauseous, from the sticky heat and what you know of human nature, and you wonder why you have come. But you have been told that a man must go at least once in his life, or he won't believe it when other people tells him what went on.

Not a heart of stone, but a heart of fire.

When his eyes meet mine, desire, as keen as any blade, bends the air between us. The moment slows. I want to bite his lip. To feel the heat of his skin. To slide my hands beneath his armor and trace the map of his scars.

Summer was supposed to be the best part of the year, but so far Nikki's summer sucked. It sucked hard. It sucked like a vacuum that got hold of the drapes.

Fire can either burn down your house or warm it.

I reach out my hand to the fire. Since I was formed of snow, I wonder if I will melt. I hold my fingers close enough to burn, but all that happens when I snatch them back is that the tips are reddened and they sting.