Quotes About Warmth

after all your talk of food … you're still hungry after all your talk of clothes … you're still cold eating rice is what fills your belly wearing clothes is what keeps you warm without really thinking it through you grumble that the way to find Buddha is difficult look inside your heart … there's Buddha don't look for him outside your self —HAN SHAN, The View from Cold Mountain

have little to offer in this time when nothing lasts, only that desire to which you come as to a well. Even the language tells it: to satisfy and sadness rooted on one stock, the faithful breathing back towards shadow of everything that once bent to the sun. And still, the long slanting days pull us in, the warmth, the pitch of the hills, and everything in us wants to give over again— Only a little further, a hand's extending, a single word; the mirage, beautiful, beckons us on.

Whenever she turned her steep focus to me, I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.

Home is where you will always have a place, where you will always feel loved, and you will never be alone.

One kind word can warm three winter months.

I am the broth of love. Make soup to me.

The joy I feel is immense; it burns inside me as though I have swallowed a piece of the sun.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

There was in him a slumbering spark of sociability which the long Starkfield winters had not yet extinguished. By nature grave and inarticulate, he admired recklessness and gaiety in others and was warmed to the marrow by friendly human intercourse.

I want our life to be like a house with all the windows lit.

He took [the book] up, and found himself plunged in an atmosphere unlike any he had ever breathed in books; so warm, so rich, and yet so ineffably tender, that it gave a new and haunting beauty to the most elementary of human passions.

Everything about her was warm and soft and scented: even the stains of her grief became her as rain-drops do the beaten rose.

as usual, kept the fire alive and the lamp trimmed; and the room, with its rows and rows of books

Hale sat with his feet up on the stove, his back propped against a battered desk strewn with papers: the place, like the man, was warm, genial and untidy.

But that had been out-of-doors, under the open irresponsible night. Now, in the warm lamplit room, with all its ancient implications of conformity and order, she seemed infinitely farther away from him and more unapproachable.

Her books, and some inner source of life, had kept her warm.

All my life I've made friends and lost lovers and talked about these two activities as though they were very different, opposed; but in truth love is the direct and therefore hopeless method of calling Orpheus back, whereas friendship is the equally hopeless because irrelevant attempt to find warmth in other shades. Odd that in the story Orpheus is lonely, too.

But, she smiled, it seems to me he has a warm heart.

May your love remain an eternal flame.

And Caitlin smiled. I Wanted to put her smile in my pocket to look at over and over

One call that I never will forget came at close to four A.M., waking me; he must have just gotten up in Los Angeles. His voice said, "Alex Haley?" I said, sleepily, "Yes? Oh, hey, Malcolm!" His voice said, "I trust you seventy percent" -- and then he hung up. I lay a short time thinking about him and I went back to sleep feeling warmed by that call, as I still am warmed to remember it. Neither of us ever mentioned it." The Autobiography of Malcolm X

Cold in my professions, warm in ?my? friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it m?ight? be in my power, by action rather than words, ?to? convince you that I love you.

Actually, this seems to be the basic need of the human heart in nearly every great crisis — a good hot cup of coffee.

She was made for untidy rooms and rumpled beds.