A Quote by Lorenz Hart

Hate California--it's cold and it's damp. — © Lorenz Hart
Hate California--it's cold and it's damp.
Apples hate strong wind and damp, cold soil so try and place them on well-drained, rich soil in a sheltered position.
I hate being cold and I hate being wet and around 80% percent of this film I was cold and another 60% I was cold and wet, so it wasn't the best shoot for me.
I grew up in Southern California. If it's snowing on a day I'm supposed to train, I'll just stare out the window in all my gear and be like, 'Hmmm, maybe not today.' I hate being cold.
I spent most of my youth in Montana, where there are long, cold winters, but Maine has the coldest winters you could imagine. Not only are they long, not only does it snow, but it gets really damp. It's a wet cold with a lot of wind.
Unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.
All my indispositions have their source in my mind. It is when I am restless and unhappy that I become susceptible of cold, damp, heats, and such nonsense.
A violent act pierces the atmosphere, leaving a hole through which the cold, damp draft of its memory blows forever.
When I wake up, my pillow’s cold and damp with tears. But tears for what? I have no idea.
California has set up regional collection offices around the world, staffed by California employees, specifically for out of state California businesses to collect the money and bring it back to California.
I am at the moment deaf in the ears, hoarse in the throat, red in the nose, green in the gills, damp in the eyes, twitchy in the joints and fractious in temper from a most intolerable and oppressive cold.
Surely one may as profitably be soaked in the juices of a swamp for one day as pick his way dry-shod over sand. Cold and damp ? are they not as rich experience as warmth and dryness?
There's just something about that cold rush that I know I hate and a lot of other swimmers hate.
When I was ten years old, my family left a cold, damp prefab in West Fife and moved to Corby, Northamptonshire, where my father quickly found work at what was then the Stewarts & Lloyds steelworks.
Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead, The trenches cold and damp, The starved and frozen camp,-- The wounded from the battle-plain, In dreary hospitals of pain, The cheerless corridors, The cold and stony floors. Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom And flit from room to room. And slow, as in a dream of bliss, The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow, as it falls Upon the darkening walls.
One of the reasons I come to California is that the Republican party seems to have given up on California, and my message to those in California is that we're going to compete nationally as a party, and that includes California.
For the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.
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