Quotes About Cold

Nothing burns like the cold.

A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.

Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it.

They say it grows so cold up here in winter that a man's laughter freezes in his throat and chokes him to death," Ned said evenly. "Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.

The ruby at Melisandre's throat gleamed red. "It is not those foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold." "It is always cold on the Wall." "You think so?" "I know so, my lady." "Then you know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered.

Soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends.

Fire consumes, but cold preserves.

It was bitingly cold up here, and the wind pulled at his clothes like an insistent lover.

The sea is colder than a maiden and crueler than a whore.

Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come to them with a vengeance. But it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold?

Bad enough when the dead come walking,"he said (Dolorous Edd) to Jon, "now the Old Bear wants them talking as well? No good will come of that, I'll warrant. And who's to say the bones wouldn't lie? Why should death make a man truthful, or even clever? The dead are likely dull fellows, full of tedious complaints-the ground's too cold, my gravestone should be larger, why does he get more worms than I do. . . .

Lawless men are everywhere in this dark time, oh, yes. Men with cold steel and colder hearts. - Varys

Hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm.

The bad part is you freeze your balls off, but since you're not allowed to breed anyway, I don't suppose that matters.

It is always winter now.

She remembered a tale she had heard from Old Nan, about how sometimes during a long winter men who'd lived beyond their years would announce that they were going hunting. And their daughters would weep and their sons would turn their faces to the fire, she could hear Old Nan saying, but no one would stop them, or ask what game they meant to hunt, with the snows so deep and the cold wind howling. She wondered what the old Braavosi told their sons and daughters, before they set off.

The snow fell steadily, cloaking all the world in white.

The wind cut like a knife up here, and shrilled in the night like a mother mourning her slain children.

Can a bird hate? Jon had slain the wildling Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle. The golden eyes looked out on him with cold malevolence.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold …

You may dress an ironman in silks and velvets, teach him to read and write and give him books, instruct him in chivalry and courtesy and the mysteries of the Faith," writes Archmaester Haereg, "but when you look into his eyes, the sea will still be there, cold and grey and cruel.

It was a clear cold night and the stars shone down upon the mountains as bright and merciless as truth.

Hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are always warm.

I used to think that it got cold up in the Dornish Marches. What did I know?" Nothing, thought Jon Snow, the same as me.