Your cold blood cannot be worked into a fever; your veins are full of ice water; but mine are boiling, and the sight of such chillness makes them dance.
Emily Brontë...in January, everything seems desolate. The Moon ascends to cold heights - and I, a ragged sky filled with dark kisses...lie abandoned by you...
John GeddesTags: moon darkness abandonment kisses coldness desolation
I don't know what's worse by number in America, the vacant houses standing, or the homeless people falling into them.
Anthony LiccioneTags: america homelessness economy shelter starvation coldness abandoned struggles vacant-houses
Now, after so many years, I understand what the Coldness was and where it came from—this sense that everything is lost, and worthless, and meaningless.
Lauren OliverTags: lost coldness meaningless worthless
I'm falling apart, one part after another. Falling down on the world like snow. Half of me is already on the ground, watching from below.
Ashly LorenzanaTags: poetry sadness despair winter depression snow hopelessness coldness falling bleakness falling-apart rhyming
I'm pretty lost in becoming all this frost. Bitter, like Winter. Strung-out like a string of pearls.
Ashly LorenzanaTags: poetry frost lost sadness despair winter bitterness hopelessness coldness pearls
He stared dully at the desolate, cold road and the pale, dead night. Nothing was colder or more dead than his heart. He had loved an angel and now he despised a woman.
Gaston LerouxTags: love hate despise coldness
La vida tiene varias dimensiones pero estamos condenados a elegir e ignorar las demás. Estamos condenados a sentir que, por bien que estemos, nuestra elección fue incorrecta. Estamos condenados a vivir con alguien mientras deseamos día tras día a otros. Estamos condenados a mentir, a dar besos fríos, a seguir dando golpes en la oscuridad fingiendo una pasión que se fue hace años. ¿Por qué lo hacemos? El miedo a aceptar el fracaso podría ser una de las razones.
Efraim Medina ReyesTags: life passion deseo vida coldness pasión fracaso
When he returned, Edith was in bed with the covers pulled to her chin, her face turned upward, her eyes closed, a thin frown creasing her forehead. Silently, as if she were asleep, Stoner undressed and got into bed beside her. For several moments he lay with his desire, which had become an impersonal thing, belonging to himself alone. He spoke to Edith, as if to find a haven for what he felt; she did not answer. He punt his hand upon her and felt beneath the thin cloth of her nightgown the flesh he had longed for. He moved his hand upon her; she did not stir; her frown deepened. Again he spoke, saying her name to silence; then he moved his hand upon her, gentle in his clumsiness. When he touched the softness of her thighs she turned her head sharply away and lifted her arm to cover her eyes. She made no sound.
John WilliamsWater. Like a blanket. Dark. Intoxicating. Cold.
Shannon CelebiTags: dark water swimming coldness cold blanket swim swimmer
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