Top 1200 Cold World Quotes & Sayings - Page 20

Soon the cold would force them inside, so they clutched at lost summer.

If you see one cold and vehement at the same time, set him down for a fanatic.

If the flame inside you goes out, the souls that are next to you will die of cold.

I believe in saying the truth, coming out with it cold, shocking if necessary, not disguising it.

Maybe we didn't have many possessions, but we never went hungry, were cold, or lacked love.

It's the height of the Cold War, but I grew up in apolitical family and politics wasn't on the agenda.

I had a minor in Russian history, and this was at the time when the big Cold War was going on.

It's very homely, this castle. It doesn't have huge ballrooms. I didn't want a cold, cavernous place.

For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.

I expect that Trump believes we do not have an obligation to have a Cold War with Russia, but that he is very cautious.

During the wintertime in cold cities, you sometimes need a party to break through the melancholy.

I grew up in Boston, so it's a nice change to be cold after living in California.

The United States particularly abandoned Liberia after the end of the Cold War.

What we know of the world comes to us through words, or, to look at it from the other direction, when we write a sentence, we create a world, which is not the world, but the world as is appears within a dimension of assessment.

It might seem that this knowledge is cold, devoid of emotion, empty. This is another illusion.

Come on boys! Give them the cold steel! Who will follow me?

Technological change is essential, but to a natural historian it often feels cold and distancing.

An idea is like a cold germ: sooner or later someone always catches it.

If an enthusiastic, ardent, and ambitious man marry a wife on whose name there is a stain, which, though it originate in no fault of hers, may be visited by cold and sordid people upon her, and upon his children also: and, in exact proportion to his success in the world, be cast in his teeth, and made the subject of sneers against him: he may, no matter how generous and good his nature, one day repent of the connection he formed in early life; and she may have the pain and torture of knowing that he does so.

I only felt a cold wind blow while I tried to hang on to the past.

It's not a cry you can hear at night. It's not somebody who has seen the light. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.

On cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.

I have never connected with 'Gone With the Wind.' 'Lawrence of Arabia' leaves me cold.

I actually have no aspirations to ride a motorcycle ever again. It's exhausting. You get cold.

My grandfather invented the cold air balloon... But it never really took off.

I was cold, hungry, and in a hole in the ground. But at least I had my elven porn, damnit!

Joy Division sounded like Manchester: cold, sparse and, at times, bleak.

Words are cold, muddy toads trying to understand sprites dancing in a field-but they're all we have.

All the passions are nothing else than different degrees of heat and cold of the blood.

Something amazing happens when we surrender and just love. We melt into another world, a realm of power already within us. The world changes when we change. the world softens when we soften. The world loves us when we choose to love the world.

Now," said Brandons low, cold voice. "Lets not be rude eve.

A lot of sci-fi shows are very cold, too concerned with hardware.

Evil is merely privative, not absolute: it is like cold, which is the privation of beat.

The wife of a self-admirer must expect a very cold and negligent husband.

Cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

Blue as the evening sky, blue as cranesbill flowers, blue as the lips of drowned men and the heart of a blaze burning with too hot a flame. Yes, sometimes it was hot in this world, too. Hot and cold, light and dark, terrible and beautiful, it was everything all at once. It wasn't true that you felt nothing in the land of Death. You felt and heard and smelled and saw, but your heart remained strangely calm, as if it were resting before the dance began again. Peace. Was that the word?

There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.

Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.

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.

If you're going to stop masturbating, you can't taper off. You've got to quit, cold jerky!

Then he crouches down behind it, motions for Tess and me to sit down, and begins unbuttoning his vest. I blush scarlet and thank every god in the world for the darkness surrounding us. “I’m not cold and I’m not bleeding,” I say to him. “Keep your clothes on.” The boy looks at me. I would’ve expected his bright eyes to look dimmer in the night, but instead they seem to reflect the light coming from the windows above us. He’s amused. “Who said anything about you , sweetheart?

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.

After man there would be the mighty beetle civilisation, the bodies of whose members the cream of the Great Race would seize when the monstrous doom overtook the elder world. Later, as the earth's span closed, the transferred minds would again migrate through time and space -- to another stopping place in the bodies of the bulbous vegetable entities of Mercury. But there would be races after them, clinging pathetically to the cold planet and burrowing to its horror-filled core, before the utter end.

My heart beats, echoes into the cold streets where nightmares and darkness begin to meet.

I can’t exactly describe how I feel but it’s not quite right. And it leaves me cold.

Fiction lags after truth, invention is unfruitful, and imagination cold and barren.

Just another cold, misty morning inviting, "want to go again?"

One cold wintry day in London, I was dreaming about salad nicoise—one of my favorites.

He had come to know quite thoroughly the world in which he lived. His outlook was bleak and materialistic. The world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal world, a world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection and the bright sweetness of spirit did not exist.

A cold atheistical materialism is the tendency of the so-called material philosophy of the present day.

Our human tragedy is that we are unable to comprehend our experience, it slips through our fingers, we can't hold on to it, and the more time passes, the harder it gets...My father said that the natural world gave us explanations to compensate for the meanings we could not grasp. The slant of the cold sunlight on a winter pine, the music of water, an oar cutting the lake and the flight of birds, the mountains' nobility , the silence of the silence. We are given life but must accept that it is unattainable and rejoice in what can be held in the eye, the memory, the mind.

But what would interest you about the brook, It's always cold in summer, warm in winter.

Cold, hungry, scared as hell inside, but too damn brave to admit it.

I used to be cold and emotionless. I believe the disease I was born with made me that way.

It is said that the world is in a state of bankruptcy, that the world owes the world more than the world can pay.

Cold hearts don't bleed. Still they pray for eternity, never seeing tomorrow.

A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.

What's fascinating to me is the way that multiple stories go into creating any world - a fictional world, but certainly the world that we live in as well. Of course, I cannot control that world. I can just control the fictional world.

While I'm acting, I'm a professional, and then I don't break into cold sweat for whatsoever reason.

If one comes across sometimes as being cold or brusque, it's simply because I'm striving for the best.