A Quote by Stephen King

There's nothing like stories on a windy night when folks have found a warm place in a cold world. — © Stephen King
There's nothing like stories on a windy night when folks have found a warm place in a cold world.
In cold and heat, in rain and wind, the soul united to God says, "I want it to be warm, to be cold, windy, to rain, because God wills it."
El Capitan is the most chapping environment in the world: windy, cold, super dry. I wake up twice a night and reapply lotion to my hands. We sand our fingertips to keep them smooth.
Pete- What does a woman want out of marriage? Louisa- Undying devotion and a warm place to put her cold feet when she gets into bed at night.
I lived in Chicago for a few years and got a sense of - kind of that broad-shouldered, windy, um, stern, Midwestern, warm-slash-passive aggressive, wonderful - every adjective I can think of, very cold.
'Warm in December, cold in June, you say?' I don't suppose the water's changed at all. You and I know enough to know it's warm Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm. But all the fun's in how you say a thing.
The loneliness caused by not hearing Ren's voice... I felt it deep in the night. I felt it deeper than anyone else. Even now at times I look back. In this ordinary life without Ren, I think my life with him was like a dream. Especially on a snowy night like this. On a night as cold as this. Someone keep this guy warm for me, please.
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
How can we be alive and not wonder about the stories we knit together this place we call the world? Without stories our universe is merely rocks and clouds and lava and blackness. It's a village scraped raw by warm waters leaving not a trace of what existed before.
I don't like the cold. But as along as you warm up properly and you build up a nice sweat and keep your body warm, your arm warm and loose, you should be fine.
Walking the streets on winter nights kept him warm, despite the cold nocturnal passions of uprising winds. His footsteps led between trade-marked houses, two up and two down, with digital chimneys like pigs' tits on the rooftops sending up heat and smoke into the cold trough of a windy sky. Stars hid like snipers, taking aim now and again when clouds gave them a loophole. Winter was an easy time for him to hide his secrets, for each dark street patted his shoulder and became a friend, and the gaseous eye of each lamp glowed unwinking as he passed.
I didn't much like Las Vegas. The noise of the place and the whole 24-hour, 'let's play the slot machines all night' culture of the place just left me cold.
To feel safe and warm on a cold wet night, all you really need is soup.
How often, in this cold and bitter world, is the warm heart thrown back upon itself! Cold, careless, are we of another's grief; we wrap ourselves in sullen selfishness.
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.
I thought of you with your hair silver as snow all through that cold, slow journey from Sirle. I felt you troubled deep within me, and there was no other place in the world I would rather have been than in the cold night riding to you. When you opened your gates to me, I was home.
I ain't never found no place for me to fit. Seem like all I do is start over. It ain't nothing to find no starting place in the world. You just start from where you find yourself.
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