Quotes About Cold

Shunning the upstart shower, / The cold and cursory scrub, / I celebrate the power / That lies within the Tub.

The cold, increased by the tremendous speed, deprived them of the power of speech.

Depths of Friendship...under fathoms deepof dark and bitter coldan eerie oscillationreverberated brash and bold...

I don't know if it was the cold sincerity in my voice or the shock of being straddled by a wild, mud covered woman, but he didn't try to argue. "Give me your ring. Now.

Cold prayers shall never have any warm answers.

the love had grown cold, and in the night he heard it whistling through the chambers of his heart like a lost and gently crying wind.

These the seeds of vocation. From these he had fled into love, but now the love had grown cold, and in the night he heard it whistling through the chambers of his heart like a lost and gently crying wind.

There were special problems involved in tending the wounded, too, for the same cold that immobilized a man with low blood pressure also tended to freeze drugs solid. Finnish medics went into battle with ampoules of morphine tucked inside their mouths or taped to their armpits.

For this relief much thanks; 'tis bitter cold,And I am sick at heart.

To live a barren sister all your life,Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.

A sad tale's best for winter.I have one of sprites and goblins.

This will last out a night in Russia,When nights are longest there.

Chaste as the icicleThat's curdied by the frost from purest snow,And hangs on Dian's temple.

The air bites shrewdly.

How like a winter hath my absence been.

And sleep in dull cold marble.

[W]inter tames man, woman and beast....

As cold as any stone.

They that have power to hurt and will do none,That do not do the thing they most do show,Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow.

William Shakespeare

Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.

The air is blue and keen and cold, With snow the roads and fields are white; But here the forest's clothed with light And in a shining sheath enrolled. Each branch, each twig, each blade of grass, Seems clad miraculously with glass: Above the ice-bound streamlet bends Each frozen fern with crystal ends.

Back and side go bare, go bare,Both foot and hand go cold;But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,Whether it be new or old.

They all liked California, but they thought the people were cold.