My shoe is off. My foot is cold. I have a bird I like to hold.
I don't know why women are so mad about flowers. Personally, they leave me cold. I prefer trees.
Roz to Amelia (the house ghost): How considerate of you, after trying to kill me, to see that I don't catch a cold.
Workmen’s compensation, hours and conditions of labor are cold consolations, if there be no employment.
I think I'm cold, indeed icy, hard. Then there's another reason, one that goes with my frankness: I don't put on act.
But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things.
I come out of a Cold War sensibility, a Cold War mentality, and during those Cold War years, I used to know, I thought, the answers to everything. And since the end of the Cold War, I'm just a dumb as everyone else.
West is too materialist; East is too spiritual; North is too cold; South is too loose!
Babies act out when they're hungry, cold, tired. They do this for survival.
I'm a cold winter morning, y'all Summer's Eve.
Cold is thy hopeless heart, even as charity.
I don't like to write from a flat, cold position. You must like what you're doing very much or like the people -- either like them or hate them. You can't be indifferent.
Blood transforms the warm bath water and, in it, I see weakly that this was a mistake. The razor's cut is not deep, nevertheless the blood rushes out happily in the warm water as if kin to it, the same tender substance. Rising a new person transformed with an icy sense of error I go to the sink and turn on cold water which is not friendly to blood. The cut is deeper than imagined.
Wolves ate even mighty hunters, for there was no honor or code among predators, and everyone's guts steam the same way when torn open on a cold night.
And this was why falling for the butterflies was never a good idea. I didn't feel all bubbly and excited now. I felt cold and broken and empty.
In World War II, jazz absolutely was the music of freedom, and then in the Cold War, behind the Iron Curtain, same thing. It was all underground, but they needed the food of freedom that jazz offered.
If a cat sits on a hot stove once, it will never sit on a cold one either.
She was cold by nature, self-love predominating over passion; rather than being virtuous, she preferred to have her pleasures all to herself.
The competition between human beings destroys with cold and diabolic brutality. . . Under the pressure of this competitive fury we have not only forgotten what is useful to humanity as a whole, but even that which is good and advantageous to the individual. [. . . ] One asks, which is more damaging to modern humanity: the thirst for money or consuming haste. . . in either case, fear plays a very important role: the fear of being overtaken by one's competitors, the fear of becoming poor, the fear of making wrong decisions or the fear of not being up to snuff. . .
The music business can be very cold. And it doesn't honor its elders.