Quotes About Warmth

Doctor, he's going to be all right, isn't he? He won't-he won't die, will he? Apparently, James Keene was aware that his naturally glum face and drooping eyes presented, merely in repose, an expression that did little to inspire confidence. He cultivated a warm smile, a soft yet confident tone of voice, and an almost grandfatherly manner that, although perhaps calculated, seemed genuine and helped balance the perpetual gloom God had seen fit to visit upon his countenance.

Just being in his arms was like heaven; it felt like I was coming home.

a smile that would melt concrete.

A kitchen that's too clean has no soul. No flavor.

Feel-good factor If you want a promotion but come across as aloof or reserved, you'll be overlooked in favor of someone who has warm "people skills"—skills that make others feel good about being around them.

He was my true home. My first safe place.

Upon Waking at the far edge of earth, night is going away. another poem begins. slumped over the typewriter i must get this exactly, i want to make it clear this morning that your face, as it opens from its shadow, is more perfect than yesterday; and that the light, as it hesitates over the approach of your smile, has given this aching bed more than warmth, more than poems; someway a generous rose, or a very delicate arrangement of sounds, has come to peace in this new room.

Sloth kept him in bed awhile. Restlessness drove him downstairs to the tiny court behind his kitchen, where the sun made more mist. Under its warmth everything gave off ghosts. They work from the bricks, rose with a deep reluctance, disappeared.

A smile is the light in your window that tells others that there is a caring, sharing person inside.

What happened, honey?" She melted at the endearment, at the look in his eyes. "I fell in love with you." Her words left her mouth on a rush of air. Something flared in his eyes. He pulled off his gloves, his eyes never leaving her, and cradled her face. His hands were warm and rough against her cold cheeks. "Eden . . .," he whispered. "I love you too.

Joe closed his hand over the watch and it was still warm from his father's pocket, ticking against his palm like a heart.

There is nothing more delightful in life than a feather bed and an open fire—except a feather bed with a warm and tender lover in it.

Roger Wakefield: ésta es mi hija, Brianna. Brianna Randall dio un paso adelante con una sonrisa tímida.

To the taste of breasts like apricots, the warm scent of a woman's navel when she wakens in the winter, the warmth of a mound that fills your hand like a peach, split with ripeness.

He stripped off his stockings to dry and laid them on the rock to lie in the sun. His long bare toes wiggled in enjoyment of the warmth.

like that! Here, just let me tuck that bit in for ye.

Snow was falling, and winter had come; the season of fire. Candles and hearth fire, that lovely, leaping paradox, that destruction contained but never tamed, held at a safe distance to warm and enchant, but always, still, with that small sense of danger.

his mouth was soft and warm and I moved instinctively toward him. I was vaguely conscious of noises, Scottish whoops of enthusiasm and encouragement from the spectators, but really noticed nothing beyond the enfolding warm solidness. Sanctuary.

He would feel it begin to slip away when he left—that thin veneer of humanity—more of it gone with each step away from the farmhouse. Sometimes he would keep the illusion of warmth and family all the way to the cave where he hid; other times it would disappear almost at once, torn away by a chill wind, rank and acrid with the scent of burning.

a hand on his arm. Bone and muscle were solid, warm under her

I tried to ignore the conversation going on behind me, to lose myself instead in the memory of Jamie hewing bark and squaring logs, of sleeping in his arms under the shelter of a half-built wall, feeling the house rise up around me, enclosing me in warmth and safety, the permanent embodiment of his embrace. I always felt safe and soothed by this vision, even when I was alone on the mountain, knowing I was protected by the house he had built for me.

the room. It was early January, and despite the furnace's best efforts, the only truly warm place at night was bed, under heavy blankets. I smiled at him, and rose from my chair, dropping the heavy wool

Then I took his hand and lifted my head, and looked full into the face of the sun.

Don't be afraid," he whispered into my hair. "There's the two of us now." I felt warm, soothed, and safe for the first time in many days.