Quotes About Cold

Tess Bean had sent him flailing into the freezing cold water.

This cold winter night, that old wooden-head buddha would make a nice fire

I stared at the words and they did not swim or blur. Rats have no tears. Dry and cold was the world and beautiful the words. Words of good-bye and farewell, farewell and so long, from the little one and the Big One. I folded the passage up again and I ate it.

This reminded me of the peril of applying analogies in geopolitics, best encapsulated in Mark Twain's line: "A cat who sits on a hot stove will never sit on a hot stove again. But he won't sit on a cold stove either.

The memory came faint and cold of the story I might have told, a story in the likeness of my life, I mean without the courage to end or the strength to go on.

Some men love truth so much that they seem to be in continual fear lest she should catch cold on over-exposure.

And now there came both mist and snow,And it grew wondrous cold:And ice, mast-high, came floating by,As green as emerald.

The ice was here, the ice was there,The ice was all around:It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,Like noises in a swound!

When their souls grew cold they dropped their wings to their sides

Let me remember you, soon will the winter be on us, Snow-hushed and heartless.

The sun never sets there [Siberia] - one end wakes up when the other is going to sleep. In parts it is so cold that living trees explode with a sound like gunfire...

Every time I hear, Cut. Print, something cold and electrical goes off in my head, because I'm never going to change that film.

The sunlight on the garden Hardens and grows cold, We cannot cage the minute Within its nets of gold

It's the first time I've been cold for seven years. I was never cold playing rugby league.

It's such a cold night and it's the only time I've actively been grateful for menopause. I've been entirely comfortable.

A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.

Even the heart in time may grow cold.

My grandfather once told her if you couldn't read with cold feet, there wouldn't be a literate soul in the state of Maine.

Say that we are a puff of warm breath in a very cold universe. By this kind of reckoning we are either immeasurably insignificant, or we are incalculably precious and interesting. I tend toward the second view. Scarcity is said to create value, after all.

A cold heart that does not love suggests one of two things. Either it has never been forgiven, or it does not appreciate the depth of its forgiveness. In fact, much of our growth in Christ is simply growth in our understanding of what Christ has done for us.

Mortality is like the cold. It cannot be altered by human conceit or solidarity, and at the end you will be on your knees, in shock and amazement, and then you'll have only one sword, one shield, one great thing to carry you through. Alessandro waited to hear what that was, but his father would not say. If you don't discover it yourself, it will be nothing more than an exhortation from me.

Because no windows were open and the air was so still and cold that the trees dared not move for fear of encountering more of it than they had to, Christiana thought that she had entered a city of the dead.

John F. Kennedy said something truly terrifying—guaranteed to make every parent's blood run cold: "To have a child is to give fate a hostage.

It was the Russia of my dreams and adolescent fantasies that I was looking for: dark, snowy, cold, a moody and romantic place of beauty, sadness, melancholy, and absurdity.