Cold Quotes - Page 14

• 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.

  J.R. Ward

  Love You, Mean, Want

  J.R. Ward (2009). “Lover Avenged: A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood”, p.591, Penguin

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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.

  Christopher Moore

  Suicide, Country, Art

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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.

  Truman Capote

  Baby, Morning, Wall

  Truman Capote, M. Thomas Inge (1987). “Truman Capote: Conversations”, p.6, Univ. Press of Mississippi

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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.

  Markus Zusak

  Distance, Skulls, Mirrors

  Markus Zusak (2016). “The Book Thief: 10th Anniversary Edition”, p.225, Random House

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• When I wake up, my pillow’s cold and damp with tears. But tears for what? I have no idea.

  Haruki Murakami

  Ideas, Tears, Wake Up

  Haruki Murakami (2011). “Kafka On The Shore”, p.236, Random House

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• A dry martini,' he said. 'One. In a deep champagne goblet.' ... Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon-peel. Got it?

  Ian Fleming

  Ice, Add, Three

  Ian Fleming (1961). “gilt-edged bonds”

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• Today was a very cold and bitter day, as cold and bitter as a cup of hot chocolate, if the cup of hot chocolate had vinegar added to it and were placed in a refrigerator for several hours.

  Daniel Handler

  Chocolate, Hot, Today

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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.

  Betty Smith

  Children, Grief, Winter

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• Speaks well of a man to need a little something in this world. I wouldn't trust a man who could git through it cold sober.

  Harry Crews

  Men, Needs, World

  Harry Crews (1979). “Blood and Grits”, HarperCollins Publishers

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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?

  Jaclyn Moriarty

  Hate, Mean, Writing

  Jaclyn Moriarty (2014). “Feeling Sorry for Celia: A Novel”, p.10, St. Martin's Press

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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.

  Jonathan Franzen

  Powerful, Real, Night

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• Looking at the sky last night and the moon in the first fresh dark, just a few stars, bright with their cold flares, I had a little crumpled thought, 'Oh well, the moon. It's just another place like California.' One's imagination drags its feet as we are inexorably hauled into the future.

  James Schuyler

  Stars, Dark, Moon

  James Schuyler, Nathan Kernan (1997). “The diary of James Schuyler”, Black Sparrow Pr

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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.

  Fyodor Dostoevsky

  Pain, Years, Essence

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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.

  Mary Karr

  Mother, Hurt, Grief

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• There are two things that men should never weary of, goodness and humility; we get none too much of them in this rough world among cold, proud people.

  Robert Louis Stevenson

  Humility, Men, Two

  Robert Louis Stevenson (2016). “Kidnapped: Stevenson's Vol. 23”, p.92, VM eBooks

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• A narrow pond would form in the orchard, water clear as air covering grass and black leaves and fallen branches, all around it black leaves and drenched grass and fallen branches, and on it, slight as an image in an eye, sky, clouds, trees, our hovering faces and our cold hands.

  Marilynne Robinson

  Eye, Clouds, Air

  Marilynne Robinson (2004). “Housekeeping: A Novel”, p.5, Macmillan

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• ..As always, she was carrying the washing. Rudy was carrying two buckets of cold water, or as he put it, two buckets of future ice.

  Markus Zusak

  Ice, Two, Water

  Markus Zusak (2013). “The Book Thief: Enhanced Movie Tie-in Edition”, p.164, RH Childrens Books

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• Pride costs us more than hunger, thirst, and cold.

  Thomas Jefferson

  Pride, Cost, Hunger And Thirst

  Thomas Jefferson, Joyce Appleby, Terence Ball (1999). “Jefferson: Political Writings”, p.56, Cambridge University Press

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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.

  J.R. Ward

  Dream, Liars, Eye

  J.R. Ward (2007). “Lover Revealed: A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood”, p.387, Penguin

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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.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Stars, Dark, Night

  Cormac McCarthy (2012). “All the Pretty Horses”, p.31, Pan Macmillan

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• Adventures are only interesting once you've lived to see the end of them. Before that, they are nothing but fear, and being too cold or too hot or too wet or too hungry, and getting hurt.

  Holly Lisle

  Hurt, Attitude, Adventure

  Holly Lisle (2010). “The Silver Door”, p.175, Scholastic Inc.

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• Why should I cumber myself with regrets that the receiver is not capacious? It never troubles the sun that some of his rays fall wide and vain into ungrateful space, and only a small part on the reflecting planet. Let your greatness educate the crude and cold companion.

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Regret, Fall, Greatness

  Ralph Waldo Emerson (2015). “Essays”, p.37, Xist Publishing

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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.

  Cornelia Funke

  Stars, Reflection, Night

  Cornelia Funke (2011). “Inkdeath”, p.491, Scholastic Inc.

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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.

  Zadie Smith

  Blow, Light, Air

  Zadie Smith (2006). “On Beauty”, p.33, Penguin UK

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• They came from the four corners of the earth, driven by hunger, plague, tumors, and the cold, and stopped here. They couldn’t go any futrther because of the ocean. That’s France, that’s the French people.

  Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  Ocean, People, Earth

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