A Quote by George R. R. Martin

Nothing burns like the cold. — © George R. R. Martin
Nothing burns like the cold.
In the attic, a warhead no doubt burns. Everything is combustible. Faith burns. Trust burns. Everything burns to nothing and even nothing burns. . . . And when there is nothing, there is nothing worth dying for and when there is nothing worth dying for, there is only nothing.
but the real enemy is the cold. It steals up on you quieter than Will, and at first you shiver and your teeth chatter and you stamp your feet and dream of mulled wine and nice hot fires. It burns, it does. Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it. It's easier just to sit down ot go to sleep. They say you don't feel any pain toward the end. First you go weak and drowsy, and everything starts to fade, and then it's like sinking into a sea of warm milk. Peaceful, like.
Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it.
Wine makes all things possible. GEORGE R. R. MARTIN, The Mystery Knight A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things. GEORGE R. R. MARTIN, A Game of Thrones Nothing burns like the cold. GEORGE R. R. MARTIN, A Game of Thrones Laughter is poison to fear.
Awareness is fire; it burns all that is wrong in you. It burns your ego. It burns your greed, it burns your possessiveness, it burns your jealousy - it burns all that is wrong and negative, and it enhances all that is beautiful, graceful, divine.
Severe isn't a word normally associated with a cold. Severe is for weather or third-degree burns...No one responds 'severe' when someone asks how her cold is.In fact, nine out of ten Americans respond to 'How's your cold' with 'It sucks.' So there should be an It Sucks cold formula.
My heart burns like fire but my eyes are as cold as dead ashes.
Your hand is cold, mine burns like fire. How blind you are, Nastenka!
"Ice" came in when my friends would say "cold as ice" -- if you could rap and battle people you'd say "Dude, that was ice cold." It had nothing to do with jewelry. Back then, it was like "Your cold, dawg." "Vanilla Ice -- that's cold."
The true saint burns grace like a 747 burns fuel on takeoff.
There's nothing like the discipline of having to work on a cold film set on the Danubian plain in Bulgaria. Boy, does it get cold.
I was in New York last Christmas - it's snowing; there's a guy in a t-shirt. I'm like, 'Dude, aren't you cold?' 'No, I'm from New York. I don't get cold.' Just 'cause you're from a cold place doesn't mean you're genetically predisposed to not feeling cold. You're not a penguin. I was like, 'In fact, sir, you're Puerto Rican, so if anything, you should be more cold.
A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.
I still miss the Midwest feel with the weather, people overall and food. Sometimes I feel like I need the cold again just to get that chip on my shoulder again. There's nothing like going outside and being cold.
The sinner is not the one who uses a lot of grace... The saint burns grace like a 747 burns fuel on take off.
For a long time I believed the opposite of passion was death. I was wrong. Passion and death are implicit, one in the other. Past the border of a fiery life lies the netherworld. I can trace this road, which took me through places so hot the very air burned the lungs. I did not turn back. I pressed on, and eventually passed over the border, beyond which lies a place that is wordless and cold, so cold that it, like mercury, burns a freezing blue flame.
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