Why are you crying?" shivered the otter. "Because I am cold!" shouted the gnome. "Then why are you shouting?" chattered the otter. "Because," yelled the gnome, "when I shout it gets part of the cold from the inside out.
Stephen CosgroveSo when you're cold
From the inside out
And don't know what to do,
Remember love and friendship,
And warmth will come to you.
Tags: friendship lesson cold
And though the coldness I have always felt leaves me, the numbness doesn't and probably never will. this relationship will probably lead to nothing... this didn't change anything. I imagine her smelling clean, like tea...
Bret Easton EllisThe climate of Barrow is Arctic. Temperatures range from cold as shit to fucking freezing.
Steve NilesThanks to TV and for the convenience of TV, you can only be one of two kinds of human beings, either a liberal or a conservative.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.Tags: politics dichotomy turkey cold
A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.
Carl ReinerTags: winter snow weather cold freezing
Ice burns, and it is hard to the warm-skinned to distinguish one
sensation, fire, from the other, frost.
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 SmithTags: futility winter nihilism mother cold maternal
I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark; I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!
William FaulknerTags: dark winter new-england cold
Outside the window, there slides past that unimaginable and deserted vastness where night is coming on, the sun declining in ghastly blood-streaked splendour like a public execution across, it would seem, half a continent, where live only bears and shooting stars and the wolves who lap congealing ice from water that holds within it the entire sky. All white with snow as if under dustsheets, as if laid away eternally as soon as brought back from the shop, never to be used or touched. Horrors! And, as on a cyclorama, this unnatural spectacle rolls past at twenty-odd miles an hour in a tidy frame of lace curtains only a little the worse for soot and drapes of a heavy velvet of dark, dusty blue.
Angela CarterTags: travel horror winter cold white ice siberia train desolate rail splendour
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