Quotes About Warmth

when you cook for people, they feel cared for.

there's always something in miso soup

Neela had dressed for beauty, not for warmth, and the afternoon had lost its glow. Solanka took off his coat and put it over her trembling shoulders. All around them in the park the colours were fading. The world became a place of blacks and greys. Women's clothes – unusually for New York, it had been a season of bright colours – faded to monochrome. Under a gunmetal sky, the green leached out of the spreading trees.

Love is spring after winter. It comes to heal life's wounds, inflicted by the unloving cold.

Aioli intoxicates gently, fills the body with warmth, and the soul with enthusiasm. In its essence it concentrates the strength, the gaiety of Provence: sunshine.

Character is a strange blending of flinty strength and pliable warmth.

If we lose affection and kindliness from our life: we lose all that gives it charm.

they were so happy that they were conscious only of the sunshine and the presence of each other.

Not a ripple could be noticed on the surface of the green waters; the swans themselves, even, reposing with folded wings like ships at anchor, seemed inspirations of the warmth of the air, the freshness of the water, and the silence of the beautiful evening

Vous êtes chez vous

Am avut totuÈ™i È™i o companie mai pl?cut?, a p?s?rilor alungate de frigul din munÈ›i È™i câmpii È™i care au venit s?-È™i caute hrana pe lâng? locuinÈ›ele oamenilor, duÈ™manii lor, aÈ™ezându-se în familii sau colonii pe balconul meu, unde le pun mâncare È™i ap?: dar cred c? dup? ce vremea se va înc?lzi, ele m? vor p?r?si pentru totdeauna.

It was a warm and breezy day, too warm for Sally's heavy clothes, so she draped her coat over her arm. The sun went through the fabric of her dress, a hot hand across flesh and bones. Sally felt as though she'd been dead and now that she was back she was particularly sensitive to the world of the living: the touch of the wind against her skin, the gnats in the air, the scent of mud and new leaves, the sweetness of blues and greens.

He pulled the door closed and the wind became just the slightest rush of air against the rolled-up windows. There was suddenly a pleasant warmth. Their voices, suddenly, seemed rich and sure now that they could speak quietly, now that their words were no longer scattered by the buffeting wind.

trimmed border of his hair. All that trying to be charming and trying to be demure and hoping to look attentive and to speak well and wondering how this strange impulse of his will come to a conclusion put aside now that they had agreed, finally, that this, after all, was simply what they'd wanted. The warmth of it, the moment's respite.

The wind was just above them. It seemed to skim the tops of the surrounding dunes, bending the grass. But here the sun on his knees and on his forearm felt warm.

And then the wind paused completely, as it will in April, a sudden silence and maybe even the hint of warmth from the sun, so

Enforced love is not love. All it can lead to is a sham relationship without any genuine communication, a pretense of warmth and cordiality that does not really exist, a false avowal of affection designed to mask resentment or possibly even hatred.

And now such a warm commotion, such busy love.

En su momento pensó que no podría vivir sin café, pero resulta que en realidad lo que quiere entre las manos es el tazón caliente; eso es lo que ayuda a pensar o a hacer lo que haga durante la sucesión de las horas, o de los días.

And where there is snow most people recognize the fact of winter and take more than half-hearted measures to keep their houses warm.

There was our father, the heart we knew held all of us. Held us heavily and desperately, the doors of his heart opening and closing with the rapidity of stops on an instrument, the quiet felt closures, the ghostly fingering, practice and practice and then, incredibly, sound and melody and warmth.

I loved sitting on the pile of freshly cut logs, running my hands over the different shapes and smelling their woody fragrance. To this day I think that there is nothing as interesting to look at as a heap of newly cut logs, the delicate colouring of their veined insides telling their life story, while they wait to bring warmth and comfort.

My mother must have bathed me hundreds of times. But it's my father rinsing me off with the purple metal cup that I remember most clearly. The suffusion of warmth as the hot water sluiced over me... ...the sudden, unbearable cold of its absence.

They lay together where they fell, and it was sweet and it was surprising, like waking up together in bed.