Cold Quotes - Page 15

• Dona Crista laughed a bit. "Oh, Pip, I'd be glad for you to try. But do believe me, my dear friend, touching her heart is like bathing in ice." I imagine. I imagine it feels like bathing in ice to the person touching her. But how does it feel to her? Cold as she is, it must surely burn like fire.

  Orson Scott Card

  Believe, Heart, Fire

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• When thou are not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Heart, Sunshine, Clouds

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2012). “My Complete Poetical Works (Annotated Edition)”, p.389, Jazzybee Verlag

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• And then it gets so hot that they keep the supermarkets too cold. Hot, cold. Hot, cold. It gives me the runs." Mr. Landowsky

  Janet Evanovich

  Running, Giving, Hot

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• truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more.

  Herman Melville

  Long, Quality, World

  Herman Melville (2006). “Moby Dick, the Whale: Easyread Comfort Edition”, p.87, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• To deny that there was this dark side of life would be like pretending that the cold of winter was somehow only a temporary illusion, a way station on the way to the higher "reality" of long, warm, pleasant summers. But summer, it turned out, was no more real than the snow that melted in wintertime.

  David Guterson

  Life, Summer, Real

  David Guterson (2009). “Snow Falling on Cedars”, p.105, A&C Black

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• If you want to catch beasts you don't see every day, You have to go places quite out of the way, You have to go places no others can get to. You have to get cold and you have too get wet, too.

  Dr. Seuss

  Want, Way, Beast

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• It is a terrible thing, this kindess that human beings do not lose. Terrible, because when we are finally naked in the dark and cold, it is all we have. We who are so rich, so full of strength, we end up with that small change. We have nothing else to give.

  Ursula K. Le Guin

  Dark, Small Changes, Giving

  Ursula K. Le Guin (2000). “The Left Hand of Darkness”, p.120, Penguin

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• I would never have supposed that inexperienced girl was capable of such cold-blooded, calculating manipulation!

  Barbara Mertz

  Girl, Manipulation, Calculating

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• Wait, I want more green. I hope I did not imply I only wanted your colors. We can't turn a cold shoulder to green, and blue, and purple, for the sake of all ordered things, how can you dismiss purple? Celi, call Nom back and tell him of my need for purple!

  Shannon Hale

  Blue, Color, Purple

  Shannon Hale (2010). “River Secrets”, p.69, A&C Black

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• A wave of blood goes up to my head, my stomach shrinks together, as if something dangerous has just missed hitting me. It's as if I've been caught stealing, or telling a lie; or as if I've heard other people talking about me, saying bad things about me, behind my back. There's the same flush of shame, of guilt and terror, and of cold disgust with myself. But I don't know where these feelings have come from, what I've done.

  Margaret Atwood

  Lying, Blood, Talking

  Margaret Atwood (1989). “Cat's Eye”, Bantam

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• When Eleanor's arm touched his he felt his hands grow cold with deadly fear lest he should lose the shadow brush with which his imagination was painting wonders of her. He watched her from the corners of his eyes as ever he did when he walked with her-- she was a feast and a folly and he wished it had been his destiny to sit forever on a haystack and see life through her green eyes.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Eye, Destiny, Hands

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2016). “This Side of Paradise”, p.180, Xist Publishing

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• Physically it's kind of lassitude, the apathy and tiredness that precedes the flu or some other illness, or death. My legs ache and feel heavy, my skin has become more sensitive to cold and to heat, to the hardness or rigidity of things. Nothing interests me, I feel uncomfortable being still but would feel even more uncomfortable if I moved. I don't know whether speaking is painful or just boring. I sit here, staring straight ahead, with no desires, no needs, hollow. I'm not even sad. I feel only passivity and indifference.

  Antonio Lobo Antunes

  Desire, Skins, Apathy

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• With a cold"--she spoke evenly, lowering her eyes a little--"now is the hardest time. Maybe even harder than dying. But this is probably as bad as it can get. You might come to fear the next time you get a cold; it will be as bad as this, but if you just hold steady, it won't be. For the rest of your life. That's how it works. You could take the negative view and live in fear: Will it happen again? But it won't hurt so much if you just accept it as a part of life." With that she looked up at me, smiling.

  Banana Yoshimoto

  Hurt, Eye, Views

  Banana Yoshimoto (2006). “Kitchen”, p.139, Grove Press

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• Art is amoral, whether we accept this or not; it does not take sides. The finest fictions are cold at heart.

  John Banville

  Art, Fiction, Sides

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• Kindness was the last thing she needed. She had to stay in the icy place, the numb place, and their warmth threatened to melt her just when she needed the cold.

  Janet Fitch

  Kindness, Icy, Lasts

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• ...few young poets [are] testing their poems against the ear. They're writing for the page, and the page, let me tell you, is a cold bed.

  Stanley Kunitz

  Writing, Bed, Ears

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• As best I could make out, having never heard the term until I arrived in California, being a WASP meant being mossbacked, lockjawed, rigid, humorless, cold, charmless, insipid, less than penetratingly bright, but otherwise---and inexplicably---to be envied.

  Kay Redfield Jamison

  California, Wasps, Term

  Kay Redfield Jamison (2014). “An Unquiet Mind: A memoir of moods and madness”, p.26, Pan Macmillan

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• Seems like the cold would never go away and winter would be like the bottom of my feet but then it is gone in one night and in its place comes the sun so large and laughable.

  Sherman Alexie

  Winter, Night, Feet

  Sherman Alexie (2013). “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven”, p.133, Open Road Media

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• 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.

  Michael Ondaatje

  Beautiful, Song, Morning

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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.

  Bernhard Schlink

  Hurt, Mistake, Apology

  Bernhard Schlink (2001). “The Reader”, p.49, Vintage

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• I like these people swarming on the sidewalks, wedged into a little space of houses and canals, hemmed in by fogs, cold lands, and the sea streaming like a wet wash. I like them, for they are double. They are here and elsewhere.

  Albert Camus

  Space, Fog, Sea

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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.

  Che Guevara

  Stars, Night, Space

  Ernesto Guevara, Che Guevara (2004). “Self Portrait Che Guevara”, Ocean Press

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• Nights're cold now. Nights g'cold, y'get sick. S'what happens.

  Erin Hunter

  Night, Sick, Happens

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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

  Leopold von Sacher-Masoch

  Beautiful, Tired, Kissing

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