Quotes About Cold

Fear is like cold water. A little is a fine thing, if fixes you on what counts. But too much will freeze you.

All things come to an end. He couldn't lift the old sword any more. There was no strength left. Nothing. The room was growing blurry. All things come to an end, but some only lie still, forgotten… There was a cold feeling in Logen's stomach, a feeling he hadn't felt for a long time. "No," he whispered. "I'm free of you." But it was too late. Too late…

The blade itself was dull, but its edge had a cold and frosty glint. "It speaks louder, does it not? It hisses a dire threat. It makes a deadly promise. Do you hear

It was as if the room beyond the blast furnace was a tub and someone had turned the faucets on the cold and hot running snakes.

He looked cold in his little loincloth, so Bing flicked a match and dressed him in a robe of flame

In the winter, when you're cold, the world extends no more than a foot in any direction.

The snow wasn't deep - in many places its crust was firm enough that they actually walked on top of it - but the wind was surgical, a precision instrument with needles for teeth, and it found even the tiniest exposed places on her skin, attacking them.

There are two differences between an orgy and a sex club. First, at a sex club it's considered bad form to introduce yourself to someone before you start putting parts of his body in your mouth. At an orgy you are allowed to offer your name as long as you do so with an obvious sense of irony. The second difference between an orgy and a sex club is that at a sex club the snacks are wrapped hard candies, while at an orgy they are cold cuts, or, if the hosts are really classy, canapes.

Fortunately a human being can comprehend only a certain degree of unhappiness; anything beyond it destroys him or leaves him cold. There are situations in which fear and hope become one and the same, cancel one another out, and lose themselves in a dark insensateness. How else could we know the people we love best to be in continual danger and yet go on with our daily lives as usual?

Blue gives us an impression of cold, and thus, again, reminds us of shade. We have before spoken of its affinity with black.

Our evenings are farewells. Our parties are testaments. So that the secret stream of suffering. May warm the cold of life.

You'll catch your death of cold. Clouseau: Yes, yes I probably will but . . . its all part of life's rich pageantry, you kneau.

Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud

All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged, fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find.

Time and the crabs and the sweethearting crib Would leave me cold as butter for the flies

We didn't have towels. We huddled together under a fleece blanket we found under the seats, our bare shoulders touching each other. Cold feet, on top of one another.

Because like all whores you value propriety. You are creature of capitalism, the ethics of which are so totally corrupt and hypocritical that your beauty is no more than the beauty of gold, which is to say false and cold and useless.

He never even thought of tenderness and emotion; his considerations about Durham remained cold. Durham didn't dislike him, he was sure. That was all he wanted. One thing at a time. He didn't so much as have hopes, for hope distracts, and he had a great deal to see to.

Revenge. That's what he had come for... But it didn't really exist, did it? Just empty regret and bitter heartbreak, wandering the streets. The city around him, white and grey and cold, felt suddenly so small. Hyde had been right about family, there was no escaping it... Even when there was no one left to run from.

It was the hottest day in July, and the island's humidity was draped over me like a mourning veil, yet my body went cold and sweaty. Even my skin was crying.

meaningless piety, she knew – but to be always meaningful makes a cold world.

Along my body, waking while I sleep, Sharp to the kiss, cold to the hand as snow, The scar of this encounter like a sword

So is no warmth for me at any fire To-day, when the world's fire has burned so low; I kneel, spending my breath in vain desire, At that cold hearth which one time roared so strong, And straighten back in weariness, and long To gather up my little gods and go.

Oh, the North Countree is a hard countreeThat mothers a bloody brood;And its icy arms hold hidden charmsFor the greedy, the sinful and lewd.And strong men rust, from the gold and the lustThat sears the Northland soul.