Quotes About Chilly Days

#1. What, I sometimes wonder, would it be like if I lived in a country where winter is a matter of a few chilly days and a few weeks' rain; where the sun is never far away, and the flowers bloom all year long?

Anna Neagle

#2. I dislike pastiche; it attracts attention to the language only.

Hilary Mantel

#3. Disintegration of structure equals information loss.

Gregory Benford

#4. Nobody moves on purpose to Detroit.

Manoj Bhargava

#5. He'd built a wall around his heart to protect it, and she was slowly brick by brick, smile by smile, laugh by laugh, kindness by kindness, tearing it down. Tomorrow he'd refortify it.
Tonight he simply wanted the haven she could provide.

Lorraine Heath

#6. I'm dangerous?" I snort disbelievingly. "Very," he replies plainly. "I don't feel dangerous, I feel small and exposed," I say, turning my face away from him. "Evie, you're the most dangerous creature I have ever encountered, and I have encountered them all," he says, playing with my hair.

Amy A. Bartol

#7. So: now a new year, a new beginning. I've vowed not to complain. I'm too good at it, and need to practice other skills. I've also vowed to work very hard ...

Claire Messud

#8. Building a more compassionate society is going to be a bilateral exercise between individuals and the brands that represent their aspirations, their values and their truths. People make brands. If people are compassionate, brands will be compassionate in return.

Monica Lewinsky

#9. Drawing makes you see things clearer, and clearer, and clearer still. The image is passing through you in a physiological way, into your brain, into your memory - where it stays - it's transmitted by your hands.

Martin Gayford

#10. The Norse myths are the myths of a chilly place, with long, long winter nights and endless summer days, myths of a people who did not entirely trust or even like their gods, although they respected and feared them.

Neil Gaiman

#11. September 15th. - This is the month of quiet days, crimson creepers, and blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; of tea under acacias instead of too shady beeches; of wood fires in the library in chilly evenings.

Elizabeth Von Arnim

#12. The only sound is the audible record of her thrusts as she becomes wetter. Her beautiful voice echoing in his head, they share the sounds of their amorous flesh moving in unbridled rhythm.

M.R. Gott

#13. Every sunny morning is a great fountain; we quaff 'sweet hope' from it.

Mehmet Murat Ildan