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Cold Quotes

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Cold Quotes

“Sometimes when she is able to spend the night with him they are wakened by the three minarets of the city beginning their prayers before dawn. He walks with her through the indigo markets that lie between South Cairo and her home. The beautiful songs of faith enter the air like arrows, one minaret answering another, as if passing on a rumor of the two of them as they walk through the cold morning air, the smell of charcoal and hemp already making the air profound. Sinners in a holy city.”

IfsTwoSometimesHomeAbleBeautifulLyingNightSongThreePrayerWalksCitiesMorningAirColdHolyProfoundSouthSmellPassingPassingsDawnSinnerArrowsRumorHempCharcoalCairoIndigoPassing OnMorning AirCold Morning
Author:Michael Ondaatje
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“I took all the blame. I admitted mistakes I hadn't made, intentions I'd never had. Whenever she turned cold and hard, I begged her to be good to me again, to forgive me and love me. Sometimes I had the feeling that she hurt herself when she turned cold and rigid. As if what she was yearning for was the warmth of my apologies, protestations, and entreaties. Sometimes I thought she just bullied me. But either way, I had no choice.”

IfsWayMadeSometimesHardFeelingsChoicesHurtMistakeColdAnd LoveBlameForgivingIntentionBe GoodWarmthYearningApologyBulliedForgive Me
Book:The Reader
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“The stars drew light across the night sky in that little mountain village, and the silence and the cold made the darkness vanish away. It was - I don't know how to explain it - as if everything solid melted away into the ether, eliminating all individualtiy and absorbing us, rigid, into the immense darkness. Not a single cloud to lend perspective to the space blocked any portion of the starry sky.”

IfsKnowsLittlesMadeLightNightStarsSpaceSilenceDarknessKnow HowSkyPerspectiveColdMountainCloudsVillagePortionsImmenseNight SkyAbsorbingEliminatingBlockedStarry Sky
Book:Self Portrait Che Guevara
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“I imagine that the goddess of Love has come down from Olympus to visit a mortal. So as not to die of cold in this modern world of ours, she wraps her sublime body in great heavy furs and warms her feet on the prostrate body of her lover. I imagine the favorite of this beautiful despot, who is whipped when his mistress grows tired of kissing him, and whose love only grows more intense the more he is trampled underfoot. I shall call the picture "Venus in Furs”

WorldBodyBeautifulDiesGrowsImagineFeetModernColdLoversKissingTiredHeavyIntenseMortalsGoddessImagine ThatSublimeModern WorldMistressWrapsFurVenusDespotsKissing HimOlympusVenus In Furs
Author:Leopold von Sacher-Masoch
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“I did not love cold harmony and perfect regularity of organization; what I sought was variety, mystery, tradition, the venerable, the awful. I despised sophisters and calculators; I was groping for faith, honor, and prescriptive loyalties. I would have given any number of neo-classical pediments for one poor battered gargoyle.”

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Book:The Essential Russell Kirk: Selected Essays
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“Anne always remembered the silvery, peaceful beauty and fragrant calm of that night. It was the last night before sorrow touched her life; and no life is ever quite the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it.”

Has BeensLastsLife IsNightColdSorrowCalmPeacefulRememberedTouchedLast NightGreen Gables
Book:Greatest Christmas Novels in One Volume: Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, Heidi, The Romance of a Christmas Card, The Little City of Hope, The Wonderful Life, Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, Little Lord Fauntleroy, Peter Pan…
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“Peace, in the sense of the absence of war, is of little value to someone who is dying of hunger or cold. It will not remove the pain of torture inflicted on a prisoner of conscience. It does not comfort those who have lost their loved ones in floods caused by senseless deforestation in a neighboring country. Peace can only last where human rights are respected, where the people are fed, and where individuals and nations are free.”

PeopleInspirationalHumansLittlesDoeWarCountryPainLastsValuesPassionIndividualLostNationsPeaceFreedomRightsDyingColdComfortConscienceHungerHuman RightsAbsenceBuddhistTortureRemoveFedsPrisonerLoved OnesFloodUbuntuBeing At PeaceMake Peace Not WarDeforestationPeace Not WarSomeone Who Is Dying
Author:Dalai Lama
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“And I thought, eight years ago, when I began carefully charting the progress of American Gods, nervously dipping my toes into the waters of blogging, would I have imagined a future in which, instead of recording the vicissitudes of bringing a book into the world, I would be writing about not-even-interestingly missing cups of cold camomile tea? And I thought, yup. Sounds about right. Happy Eighth birthday, blog.”

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Author:Neil Gaiman
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“Man is the only animal that deals in that atrocity of atrocities War. He is the only one that gathers his brethren about him and goes forth in cold blood and calm pulse to exterminate his kind. He is the only animal that for sordid wages will march out... and help to slaughter strangers of his own species who have done him no harm and with whom he has no quarrel.... And in the intervals between campaigns he washes the blood off his hands and works for the universal brotherhood of man with his mouth.”

MenKindWarDoneHelpingHandsPassionPeaceAnimalDealsBloodColdMouthsUniversalSpeciesCalmStrangerHarmCampaignsMarchBrotherhoodWagesQuarrelsPulseSlaughterAtrocitiesIntervalsBrethrenNo WarGoing To WarBrotherhood Of Man
Author:Mark Twain
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“It struck him that in moments of crisis one is never fighting against an external enemy, but always against one’s own body... On the battlefield, in the torture chamber, on a sinking ship, the issues that you are fighting for are always forgotten, because the body swells up until it fills the universe, and even when you are not paralysed by fright or screaming with pain, life is a moment-to-moment struggle against hunger or cold or sleeplessness, against a sour stomach or an aching tooth.”

MomentsBodyPainLife IsFightingUniverseEnemyStruggleIssuesColdCrisisForgottenHungerTeethShipsTortureStomachChamberBattlefieldsSinkingSourFrightSleeplessness
Book:The Complete Works of George Orwell: Nineteen eighty-four
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“. . .and every native has a story of winter – stories that usually begin, You call this a storm? And grow in the telling like battle tales shared by graying war veterans. It’s a peculiar character flaw to those of us from cold climates that we feel superior to those who have the sense to live elsewhere.”

FeelsWarCharacterStoriesGrowsColdBattleClimateWinterStormTalesSuperiorsNativeFlawsPeculiarElsewhereVeteranWar VeteranCharacter FlawsCold Climate
Author:Richard Paul Evans
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“Heart may still be the fire in hearth but I'm suddenly too cold to continue, and besides, there's no hearth here anyway and it's the end of June. Thursday. Almost noon. And all the buttons on my corduroy coat are gone. I don't know why. I'm sorry Hailey. I don't know what to do.”

KnowsHeartMayStillsEndsGoneFireColdSorryButtonsI'm SorryCoatsJuneNoonThursdayCorduroyHailey
Book:Mark Z. Danielewski's House of leaves
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“You know,” he said, “this is why I love you so much.” Her tone was heartbreakingly warm. “What do you mean?” You don’t ask me to go inside because it’s cold. You just want to make it easier for me to be where I want to stand.”

KnowsWantMeanSaidAsksLove YouColdEasierWarmAsk MeToneLove You So MuchI Love You So MuchWhy I Love You
Book:Lover Avenged: A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood
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“The Winter Woman is as wild as a blizzard, as fresh as new snow. While some see her as cold, she has a fiery heart under that ice-queen exterior. She likes the stark simplicity of Japanese art and the daring complexity of Russian literature. She prefers sharp to flowing lines, brooding to pouting, and rock and roll to country and western. Her drink is vodka, her car is German, her analgesic is Advil. The Winter Woman likes her men weak and her coffee strong. She is prone to anemia, hysteria, and suicide.”

MenHeartArtCountryLiteratureStrongLinesRocksCarColdDrinkWeakSuicideWesternWinterSimplicityCoffeeLikesSnowIceQueensComplexityDaringRock And RollStarksFieryHysteriaExteriorBroodingVodkaRussian LiteratureBlizzardPoutingIce QueenAnemiaJapanese Art
Author:Christopher Moore
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“What we want most is to be held...and told..that everything (everything is a funny thing, is baby milk and papa's eyes, is roaring logs on a cold morning, is hoot owls and the boy who makes you cry after school, is mama's long hair, is being afraid and twisted faces on the bedroom wall)...is going to be alright.”

WantLongEyeSchoolFacesBoysMorningCryHairWallBabyColdMilkBedroomTwistedFunny ThingsMamaAlrightBeing AfraidOwlRoaringPapaLong HairAfter SchoolMake You CryHootCold MorningBedroom Wall
Book:Truman Capote: Conversations
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“A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH I do not carry a sickle or scythe. I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold. And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.”

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Book:The Book Thief: 10th Anniversary Edition
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“It's come at last," she thought, "the time when you can no longer stand between your children and heartache. When there wasn't enough food in the house you pretended that you weren't hungry so they could have more. In the cold of a winter's night you got up and put your blanket on their bed so they wouldn't be cold. You'd kill anyone who tried to harm them - I tried my best to kill that man in the hallway. Then one sunny day, they walk out in all innocence and they walk right into the grief that you'd give your life to spare them from.”

MenGivingChildrenEnoughLastsNightHouseWalksGriefColdBedWinterHarmHungryInnocenceYour ChildrenHeartacheSparesBlanketSunnyHallwaysSunny Day
Author:Betty Smith
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“Dear Complete and Utter Stranger, The first thing that I have to say is that I hate oatmeal. I really hate it. And you know what? If you like oatmeal at all? I mean even the tiniest bit? I mean, say you were lost in the Himalayas, right, and you hadn't eaten anything except a Mars Bar for about seven years, right, and you're really cold and your fingers are all dropping off, right, and you look behind this rock, and there's this bowl of oatmeal? Say you would even think about eating the oatmeal? Well, JUST DON'T BOTHER WRITING TO ME, OKAY?”

IfsThinkingKnowsWritingYearsFirstsWellsLooksMeanHateLostBitsBehindsRocksColdEatingOkayI HateFingersSevenDearStrangerBarsBotherWhat IfBowlsMarsSeven YearsDroppingHimalayasOatmeal
Book:Feeling Sorry for Celia: A Novel
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“She wondered: How could people respond to these images if images didn't secretly enjoy the same status as real things? Not that images were so powerful, but that the world was so weak. It could be read, certainly, in its weakness, as on days when the sun baked fallen apples in orchards and the valley smelled like cider, and cold nights when Jordan had driven Chadds Ford for dinner and the tires of her Chevrolet had crunched on the gravel driveway; but the world was fungible only as images. Nothing got inside the head without becoming pictures.”

PeopleIfsWorldRealNightEnjoyPowerfulSunColdBecomingWeaknessWeakDinnerDrivenFallenApplesValleysTireReal ThingsJordanOrchardGravelDrivewayCiderCold NightChevrolet
Author:Jonathan Franzen
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“But it's precisely in this cold, loathsome half-despair, half-belief, in this deliberate burying of yourself underground for forty years out of sheer pain, in this assiduously constructed, and yet somewhat dubious hopelessness, in all this poision of unfulfilled desires turned inward, this fever of vacillations, of resolutions adopted for eternity, and of repentances a moment later that you find the very essence of that strange, sharp pleasure.”

YearsMomentsPainDesireBeliefPleasureHalfStrangeColdDespairEssenceEternityFortyResolutionRepentanceInwardSheerHopelessnessAdoptedDeliberateFeverDubiousBuryingUnfulfilled DesiresVacillation
Author:Fyodor Dostoevsky
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“The Lesson You've Got to learn is the someday you'll someday stagger to, blinking in cold light, all tears shed, ready to poke your bovine head in the yoke they've shaped. Everyone learns this. Born, everyone breathes, pays tax, plants dead and hurts galore. There's grief enough for each. My mother learned by moving man to man, outlived them all. The parched earth's bare (once she leaves it) of any who watched the instants I trod it. Other than myself, of course. I've made a study of bearing and forbearance. Everyone does, it turns out, and note those faces passing by: Not one's a god.”

MenDoeMadeEnoughLightEarthFacesMovingMotherTurnsCoursesBornHurtGriefPayStudyTearsReadyColdLessonsTaxesPlantNotesBreathePassingPassingsInstantSomedayShedYokePokeForbearancePassing ByBovine
Author:Mary Karr
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“A cold blast hit him and he laughed at the sting as he stepped outside, surveyed the night sky, and drank deeply. Such a good liar he was. Such a good one. Everyone thought he was fine because he'd camo'd his little problems. He wore a Sox hat to hide the eye twitch. Set his wristwatch to go off every half hour to beat back the dream. Ate though he wasn't angry. Laughed though he found nothing funny. And he'd always smoked like a chimney.”

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Book:Lover Revealed: A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood
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“They heard somewhere in that tenantless night a bell that tolled and ceased where no bell was and they rode out on the round dais of the earth which alone was dark and no light to it and which carried their figures and bore them up into the swarming stars so that they rode not under but among them and they rode at once jaunty and circumspect, like thieves newly loosed in that dark electric, like young thieves in a glowing orchard, loosely jacketed against the cold and ten thousand worlds for the choosing.”

WorldLightEarthYoungNightStarsDarkHeardFiguresColdThousandTenRoundsBellsThievesElectricBoresGlowingOrchardAll The Pretty Horses
Book:All the Pretty Horses
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“From the tower battlements, Dustfinger looked down on a lake as black as night, where the reflection of the castle swam in a sea of stars. The wind passing over his unscarred face was cold from the snow of the surrounding mountains, and Dustfinger relished life as if he were tasting it for the first time. The longing it brought, and the desire. All the bitterness, all the sweetness, even if it was only for a while, never for more than a while, everything gained and lost, lost and found again.”

IfsFirstsFacesDesireNightFoundLostStarsBlackSeaWindColdMountainReflectionFirst TimeLongingPassingSnowPassingsLakesBitternessTowersSweetnessCastlesTastingLost And FoundDustfinger
Book:Inkdeath
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“This because it is never really very cold in England. It is drizzly, and the wind will blow; hail happens, and there is a breed of Tuesday in January in which time creeps and no light comes and the air is full of water and nobody really loves anybody, but still a decent jumper and a waxen jacket lined with wool is sufficient for every weather England's got to give.”

GivingStillsLightHappensWaterAirWindColdEnglandBlowWeatherSufficientDecentJacketsCreepsJanuaryHailTuesdayWoolJumpers
Book:On Beauty
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