Best 663 quotes in «ice quotes» category

Whether you like it or not, the digital age has produced a new format for modern romance, and natural selection may be favoring the quick-thumbed quip peddler over the confident, ice-breaking alpha male.

While ice is not really alive, it is certainly animate. It exists in an dynamic state of perpetual vibration, flux and movement. Enjoy its existence, and its safe passage in the mountains.

Whoever came up with ice fishing must have had the worst marriage on the planet.

Why are they doing that?” his mother said, frowning at her grandsons. The boys were sorting the casserole into piles on their plates. “Doing what?” Eve asked. “Why aren’t they eating their food?” “They don’t like it when things touch,” Eve said. “What things?” his mother asked. “Their food. They don’t like it when different foods touch or mix together.” “How do you serve dinner, in ice cube trays?

Winter is not an end. It is in transit. It is headed to bankruptcy. The sheriff will sell its stock for what he can get and an ice man will be the only bidder at the sale.

Without a doubt, the warming of the past 100 years has been a welcome respite from a long and deadly Little Ice Age. The possibility that humans may have contributed to the recent warming does not make it any less welcome.

Without strength and courage it's really hard to perform at the highest levels of international figure skating, because you're alone on the ice and you only have seven minutes over two nights to prove yourself.

Wives and such are constantly filling up any refrigerator they have a claim on, even its ice-compartment, with irrelevant rubbish like food.

Wit makes its own welcome, and levels all distinction. No dignity, no learning, no force of character, can make any stand against good wit. It is like ice, on which no beauty of form, no majesty of carriage, can plead any immunity; they must walk gingerly, according to the laws of ice, or down they must go, dignity and all.

With watercolour, you can pick up the atmosphere, the temperature, the sound of snow shifting through the trees or over the ice of a small pond or against a windowpane. Watercolour perfectly expresses the free side of my nature.

Women to whom one has just been introduced think that it breaks the ice if they scream, 'Goodness, you're tall!' How would they like it if I broke the ice first, by screaming 'Goodness, what thick ankles!' or 'Goodness, what a bust!

Working with Ice Cube was so tight. He's cool, and I really like how he does family stuff. My guy friends couldn't believe I was chillin' with him. Dudes love Ice Cube.

Yes, my parents are strict about me having a childhood. I go ice skating and sledding, and swimming in the summer.

Yielding, like ice about to melt.

Yesterday i carved your name into the surface of an ice cube then held it against my chest til it melted into my aching pores today i cried so hard the neighbors knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to borrow some sugar.

You cannot learn to skate without making yourself ridiculous - the ice of life is slippery.

You can say what you want to about a rapper in a movie, but look at what Ice Cube has done. Ice Cube has created more opportunities for other actors to get jobs in this business than some actors have.

You cannot speak of ocean to a well-frog, the creature of a narrower sphere. You cannot speak of ice to a summer insect, the creature of a season.

You can't always get out on the mountain, so I'll put rubber on the end of my ice tools and climb the tread wall, a rotating rock wall I have in my backyard.

You can pour melted ice cream on regular ice cream. It's like a sauce!

You can't control the opposition, but you can control how you play, your energy level, your intensity on the ice. That's what we're going to do.

You can tell by the applause: There's perfunctory applause, there's light applause, and then there's real applause. When it's right, applause sounds like vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce.

You have ruthlessness in your bones and ice in your heart, Clarissa. Don't tell me any differently.

You're jumping over the bench, jumping back onto the ice and you're working as a unit. Defenders can move up the ice and score goals as well as the forwards. It's a real fast, physical game. It's the fastest game on earth so it's pretty enjoyable to watch.

You know what's good? Going on the ice and knowing that you don't have to skate when the whistle blows. All my life I've been the one skating.

Your anger was a climate I inhabited like a desert in a dry frigid weather of high thin air and ivory sun, sand dunes the wind lifted into stinging clouds that blinded and choked me where the only ice was in the blood.

You're gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul

You know there are so many people that have touched your life both on the ice and within your career in the NHL whether it be owners, GMs, coaches, players, trainers, all the way down. And that doesn't even account for all of the people that you encountered outside of the game that you met along this trip, too.

You'll need to do a better job, Annabelle. No more dates like the first one tonight." "Agreed. And no more making me sit through your Power Matches introductions, either. As you so wisely pointed out, helping Portia Powers isn't in my best interests." "Then why are you still trying to talk me into seeing Melanie again?" "Hunger makes me weird." "You got rid of the last one in fourteen minutes. Well done. I'm rewarding you by letting you sit in on all the introductions from now on." She nearly choked on an ice cube. "What are you talking about?" "Exactly what I said.

A flower. White and whiskered in a fringe of ice. Silken petals held together in a loose grip

A chill swept through the air, the sort of graveyard kiss promising bad news to follow.

(...) a man encased in ice, his eyes hard and his voice like a frosty exhale.

Agnes walked in with a tray of gorgeous raspberry tortes, fruit sorbet, and pistachio ice.

As her fate, she accepted the world of ice, shining, shimmering, dead; she resigned herself to the triumph of glaciers and the death of the world.

By March, the worst of the winter would be over. The snow would thaw, the rivers begin to run and the world would wake into itself again. Not that year. Winter hung in there, like an invalid refusing to die. Day after grey day the ice stayed hard; the world remained unfriendly and cold.

But germs are the most common snowflake starters and lie at the heart of 85 percent of all flakes.2 So next time you gaze at a lovely snowstorm, inform your favorite germophobe or hypochondriac that living bacteria sit shivering in most of those untold billions of flakes. Then hand him or her a snow cone or organize a catch-a-snowflake-on-your-tongue party. Once the ice-forming process is started, more molecules join the party, and the crystal grows. It can ultimately become either a snowflake or a rough granule of ice called by the odd name graupel. A snowflake contains ten quintillion water molecules. That’s ten million trillion. Ten snowflakes—which can fit on your thumb tip—have the same number of molecules as there are grains of sand on the earth. Or stars in the visible universe. How many flakes, how many molecules fashioned the snowy landscape I was observing as I drove east? It numbed the brain.

By coming down elbow first, I'd made a large enough crack in the ice to sink through. The water was so cold that it stopped time.

Fear melts like ice when we allow love's divine light to shine upon our ignorance.

En réponse à cette sorcellerie, les lames runiques de Skynth s’illuminèrent et se couvrirent d’une fine pellicule glacée alors qu’une litanie enflait dans les rangs des défenseurs : Si les Dieux d’Yskaz le veulent… L’on siégera à leur droite Sous les étoiles cristallines et moirées Dans les glaces scintillantes Si les Dieux d’Yskaz le veulent… L’on passera à leur gauche Sur les brisants nuées pâles et mouvantes Dans les Landes Figées Si les Dieux d’Yskaz le veulent… Le peuple d’Yskaz affectionnait les runes de froid au combat et l’on disait volontiers dans les cinq royaumes que le baiser d’une lame en acier d’Yskaz était plus froid que la mort elle-même.

Emotions, whims and lies, fascinations and games. Feelings and their absence. Gifts, which may not be accepted. Lies and truth. What is truth? The negation of lies? Or the statement of a fact? And if the fact is a lie, what then is the truth? Who is full of feelings which torment him, and who is the empty carapace of a cold skull? Who? What is truth, Geralt? What is the essence of truth?’ ‘I don’t know, Yen. Tell me.’ ‘No,’ she said and lowered her eyes. For the first time. He had never seen her do that before. Never. ‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I cannot, Geralt. I cannot tell you that. That bird, begotten from the touch of your hand, will tell you. Bird? What is the essence of truth?’ ‘Truth,’ the kestrel said, ‘is a shard of ice.

I allowed myself a microscopic view into his ice-colored eyes. It was like viewing one of those photographs of the Arctic region – very foreign, exotic, clearly a place you’ve never dreamed of going.

Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

From the eyes of the ice, sunset is a big event, it is a great opportunity to live longer!

He’d fallen in the trap before of believing she had the cold soul of an ice queen, but moments like these, it seemed more like she’d been encased a long time ago and couldn’t break free.

He could, Andi." Andi's heart turned to ice. It wasn't possible. He was dead, cast away into some deep, dark hell where he'd never be able to claw his way back out.

Her albino hair illuminated my dreams, shining brighter than moonlight.

He who cannot put his thoughts on ice should not enter into the heat of dispute.

I am in love, and the river is beginning to ice over. I’d better go drown myself before I freeze to death.

Ice could sear and burn—sometimes far more intimately than fire—and he had scorched her with a savagery sheathed in only the merest pretense of restraint.

I guess I was lucky I didn't drown, or smother in the thick, black, icy mud that the river left behind in its slow withdrawal back within its banks. I didn't feel lucky. When I regained consciousness, my head and ribs winning the battle with the rest of my body for sharp, almost unbearable pain, my first thought was Chrissy. Chrissy, pulled away from me by the merciless power of the water. Chrissy, lost somewhere, maybe injured, calling for me and I wasn't there for her. Chrissy, beautiful, wonderful Chrissy, quite probably lying in the mud, dead! My scream of anguish, of pain and loss, echoed through the empty Liverpool streets. There was no shame or embarrassment in that shout, that bellow of emotion. I had lost the woman I loved. Nothing I’d ever felt compared to the agony, the gut-wrenching loss of that moment. I cried. I sat there in the middle of a street I didn't recognise, not knowing how far the wave had carried me, and cried.