Quotes About Cold

Mas parece que o que nos impulsiona de uma hora para outra a uma fuga é um dia frio e cinzento, que aumenta nossa solidão, que nos faz sentir com mais força que algo vai explodir.

Mais il semble que ce qui vous pousse brusquement à la fugue, c'est un jour de froid et de grisaille qui vous rend encore plus vive la solitude et vous fait sentir encore plus fort qu'un étau se resserre.

Flakes of white fall thru the trees and onto the road, catching on our clothes and hair. It's a silent fall and it's weird how it makes everything else seem quiet, too, like it's trying to tell you a secret, a terrible, terrible secret.

Then I felt something inside me break and music began to pour out into the quiet. My fingers danced; intricate and quick they spun something gossamer and tremulous into the circle of light our fire had made. The music moved like a spiderweb stirred by a gentle breath, it changed like a leaf twisting as it falls to the ground, and it felt like three years Waterside in Tarbean, with a hollowness inside you and hands that ached from the bitter cold.

Damn chicken. Come eat your dinner. I'm cold.

I'll send a boy round to [the crazy farmer] Martin's and ask him to come by with a couple bottles." "Get five or six," Bast said. "It's getting cold at night. Winter's coming." The innkeeper smiled. "I'm sure Martin will be flattered.

Su voz es como una tormenta, y sus manos conocen todos los secretos ocultos bajo la fría y oscura tierra.

For a moment my hands stopped aching from the cold, and instead longed for the familiar feel of music running through them.

After the battle was finished and the enemy was set beyond the doors of stone, survivors found Lanre's body, cold and lifeless near the beast he had slain.

It reminded me of the quiet that settles on the coldest days in winter when it hurts to breathe and everything is still.

The wind blew cold, and he was freezing, but he did not notice that he was freezing, for within him was a counterfrost, fear.

it was a frigid January evening in Manhattan. The temperature was cold enough that if his exposed skin happened to brush up against a lamppost it would decide to leave him and stay with the metal.

La poesía es algo hermoso, pero no vale la pena que se te congele el culo por ella.

Snow harder! Snow more! Snow blizzards galore! I can't get enough Of the fluffy white stuff! Snow! Snow! Snow! Snow a ton! Snow a heap! Snow ten feet deep! I wouldn't cry If it snowed til July. Snow! Snow! Snow!

But first my feet will freeze and then my legs and then my insides, they will all turn to ice. And my blood, too, and my heart, and I will forget.

I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.

The intense atom glowsA moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose.

The cold earth steps below, Above the cold sky shone; And all around, with a chilling sound, From caves of ice and fields of snow, The breathe of night like death did flow Beneath the sinking moon.

Know then, that when this grief had been subdued, I was not left, like others, cold and dead

it was simply the solar system's colder version of hell.

The flakes are the size of tiny feathers, and that's the way snow is, it's not necessarily cold.

Late August, a clear night becoming cold. There was no aurora borealis, just the dense sparks of the stars blown from their own ancient fire.

darkened because of the ice and the inflow of melting snow,

Without clothing, they spend the night naked; they have no covering against the cold.