Canadian Cold Quotes

The lonely, wistful revisionism of memories is as gratingly repetitive as snow and ice in Canada. I avoid them both at all costs - memories and Canada. ~ Brian D'Ambrosio

The sheer volumes of songs have come from the hours of cold and darkness that one spends inside with the lights on. ~ Paul Westerberg

Stop a minute, right where you are. Relax your shoulders, shake your head and spine like a dog shaking off cold water. Tell that imperious voice in your head to be still. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

There is a relentless search for the factual and this quest often lacks warmth or reverence. At a certain stage in our life we may wake up to the urgency of life, how short it is. Then the quest for truth becomes the ultimate project. We can often forage for years in the empty fields of self-analysis and self-improvement and sacrifice much of our real substance for specks of cold, lonesome factual truth. The wisdom of the tradition reminds us that if we choose to journey on the path of truth, it then becomes a sacred duty to walk hand in hand with beauty. ~ John O'Donohue

Hugh stretched out one hand and stroked the fur. It felt cold and rich, it crackled with silky static electricity. Stroking it was like stroking a clear autumn night. ~ Stephen King

When a copier sales person cold calls a purchasing manager whom he has never met is it any surprise that the purchasing manager will most likely never return that call? ~ Josh Turner

I say "on principle" [regarding 'lesbian writer'] because whenever you get one of your minority labels applied, like "Irish Writer," "Canadian Writer," "Woman Writer," "Lesbian Writer" - any of those categories - you always slightly wince because you're afraid that people will think that means you're only going to write about Canada or Ireland, you know. ~ Emma Donoghue

If mouths cold commit the act, his made very hot, passionate love to mine last night. ~ Nicole Williams

Logic and cold reason are poor weapons to fight fear and distrust. Only faith and generosity can overcome them. ~ Jawaharlal Nehru

There is a Precious Mountain
Even the Seven Treasures cannot compare
A cold moon rises through the pines
Layer upon layer of bright clouds
How many towering peaks?
How many wandering miles?
The valley streams run clear
Happiness forever! ~ Hanshan

With a cold"
she spoke evenly, lowering her eyes a little
"now is the hardest time. Maybe even harder than dying. But this is probably as bad as it can get. You might come to fear the next time you get a cold; it will be as bad as this, but if you just hold steady, it won't be. For the rest of your life. That's how it works. You could take the negative view and live in fear: Will it happen again? But it won't hurt so much if you just accept it as a part of life." With that she looked up at me, smiling. ~ Banana Yoshimoto

She resumed pacing, no longer able to focus on the words. Luke was coming back. Her Luke. Her hot, badass scientist. ~ Rachel Grant

He never wanted love, though. You cannot eat love, nor buy a horse with it, nor warm your halls on a cold night. ~ George R R Martin

That was the night he got up and went to the boys' division; perhaps he was looking for his history in the big room where all the boys slept, but what he found instead was Dr. Larch kissing every boy a late good night. Homer imagined then that Dr. Larch had kissed him like that, when he'd been small; Homer could not have imagined how those kisses, even now, were still kisses meant for him. They were kisses seeking Homer Wells.
That was the same night that he saw the lynx on the barren, unplanted hillside - glazed with snow that had thawed and then refrozen into a thick crust. Homer had stepped outside for just a minute; after witnessing the kisses, he desired the bracing air. It was a Canada lynx - a dark, gunmetal gray against the lighter gray of the moonlit snow, its wildcat stench so strong Homer gagged to srnell the thing. Its wildcat sense was keen enough to keep it treading within a single leap's distance of the safety of the woods. The lynx was crossing the brow of the hill when it began to slide; its claws couldn't grip the crust of the snow, and the hill had suddenly grown steeper. The cat moved from the dull moonlight into the sharper light from Nurse Angela's office window; it could not help its sideways descent. It traveled closer to the orphanage than it would ever have chosen to come, its ferocious death smell clashing with the freezing cold. The lynx's helplessness on the ice had rendered its expression both terrified; and resigned; both madness and fatali ~ John Irving

We climate researchers can only offer possible scenarios. In other words, things could end up being completely different. But there are undoubtedly parts of the world that will benefit on balance from climate change. Those areas tend to be in the north, where it has been cold and uncomfortable in the past. But it's considered practically heretical to even raise such issues. ~ Hans Von Storch

The moon seemed to veil herself before the bold looks of Satan. The night was cold. All the doors were closed, all the windows darkened. and the streets deserted. From their appearance, one would have imagined that, for a long time past no foot had traversed those silent streets. Everything around us bore a death-like aspect. It seemed as if, when day came, no one would open their doors; that no head, of woman or of child, would look out of those dark, dull windows; that no step would break the silence which fell, like a pall, upon all around. I seemed to be walking in a city which had been buried some ages. In truth, the town seemed to have been depopulated, and the cemetery to have grown full.

Still we went forward, without hearing a murmur, or meeting even with a shadow. The street stretched for a long way across this fearful city of silence and repose. At last we reached my house.

'You remember it?' said the fiend.

'Yes,' replied I, sullenly, 'let us enter.'

'First,' said he, 'we must open the door. It is I, by the way, who invented the science of opening doors without breaking them in. In fact, I have a second key to all doors and gates - with one exception - that of Paradise! ~ James Hain Friswell

A song she heard
Of cold that gathers
Like winter's tongue
Among the shadows
It rose like blackness
In the sky
That on volcano's
Vomit rise
A Stone of ruin
From burn to chill
Like black moonrise
Her voice fell still ... ~ Robert Fanney

It was a clear cold night and the stars shone down upon the mountains as bright and merciless as truth. ~ George R R Martin

On sentry duty with Hazel, he would try to take his mind off it. He loved spending time with her. He asked her about growing up in New Orleans, but she got edgy at his questions, so they made small talk instead. Just for fun, they tried to speak French to each other. Hazel had some Creole blood on her mother's side. Frank had taken French in school. Neither of them was very fluent, and Louisiana French was so different from Canadian French it was almost impossible to converse. When Frank asked Hazel how her beef was feeling today, and she replied that his shoe was green, they decided to give up. Then Percy Jackson had arrived. Sure, Frank had seen kids fight monsters before. He'd fought plenty of them himself on his journey from Vancouver. But he'd never seen gorgons. He'd never seen a goddess in person. And the way Percy had controlled the Little Tiber - wow. Frank wished he had powers like that. ~ Rick Riordan

It was too cold to dream ~ Ahdaf Soueif

like a blanket of hope, in your life may all the cold turn to warm...and may all the warmth become a glowing heat, and may all the glowing heat be a wrapped blessing of joy warming your heart ~ Bodhinku

Frank Zhang, you should know!" Frank flinched. "I should?" "A son of Ares stood here!" Hedge cried indignantly. "I'm Roman ... so Mars, actually." "Whatever! Famous spot in the American Civil War!" "I'm Canadian, actually. ~ Rick Riordan

A human being born into a cold, indifferent world will regard his situation as the only possible one. ~ Alice Miller

I am a cold man. Any happiness or warmth I've felt died when Jax tried to take his life. Until you." His ragged breath gusts over my cheek. "You are my warmth. ~ Kristen Callihan

Should any American soldier be so base and infamous as to injure any Canadian or Indian in his person or property, I do most earnestly enjoin you to bring him to such severe and exemplary punishment, as the enormity of the crime may require. Should it extend to death itself, it shall not be disproportioned to its guilt, at such a time and in such a cause. ~ George Washington

Zane helped Maya down from her horse, then reached for Phoebe. He was stunned when he felt her cold, soaked clothes.
"Run a bath," he yelled to the housekeeper. He turned back to Phoebe. "Can you feel your toes?"
"No, and I don't want to. They're going to hurt."
Maya came over and wrapped an arm around her. "Don't sweat it, Zane. I'll make sure she gets warmed up. See what happens when you cross a river. When I get back to the city, I'm not leaving my house for at least six weeks. And I'm going to spend all my time ordering things delivered. There will be no roughing it for me."
Phoebe shivered as she walked toward the house. "I liked it. It was all very exciting. Well, not the river, but the rest of it. Wasn't Manny brave? And he saved my life. I need to get him a gift. What do you think he'd like?"
"His balls back. ~ Susan Mallery

He moved forward cautiously. He circled it, sniffed it, whapped it with a paw. Then he found the product tag and stared at it for a minute. Turning toward her, he lifted a lip in something that might have been a sneer.
"I know it says it's a dog bed, but I'm sure a Wolf can use it," Meg said.
Nothing but grumbly sounds from the Wolf.
"Fine. If you want to lie on a cold, hard floor instead of something comfy and warm just because Wolf is spelled d-o-g, you go right ahead. ~ Anne Bishop

Are you some kind of tree police?" Joshua asked without opening his eyes. "Do you feel as if you have some kind of civic duty to come out here and - and - annoy the hell out of me?"
"Well - yes - I do have a civic duty to stop you - that is - if you needed stopping. If you'd kept to simple tree assault, I would have just kept watching. It was fairly entertaining, in a train wreck kind of way. You've moved up to tree homicide."
"Homicide?" Joshua opened his eyes to give the man an annoyed glare. "That implies intent. At most, this is tree slaughter. Maybe even just reckless endangerment - it might not be dead."
They eyed the tree in silence. His kick had sheered the tree trunk off five inches from the roots, leaving behind a jagged white stump, flowing with sap.
"No, that's dead," the man said.
"Yeah." Joshua had to agree. It occurred to Joshua that this person might be undercover cop or some off-duty park ranger or a very lost Canadian Mountie or something. He'd seen Joshua destroy a piece of public property worth hundreds of dollars. The man might try to arrest him. That wouldn't end well for either one of them. ~ Wen Spencer

He sighed. "Why do you think you're a werewolf."
Jo took a deep breath. "I don't feel the cold. I can run very fast. I have acute senses. I heal quickly and for five days around a full moon, I'm desperate for sex and can never get enough." She looked straight at him. "What do you think?"
"Well, I have heard your horrible howl." He shuddered. Jo hit him. "Ouch. Okay, turn round," he said.
"Why?"
"I want to see if you've got a tail."
"Very funny."
Alek smirked. "Yeah, it is. Do you like to stick your head out of the car window when you're going fast? ~ Barbara Elsborg

She told me not to even try. Said you were ... as frigid as a nun and as cold as ice. That one actually stung. ~ Jennifer Ashley

There are Californians who waiver in their allegiance to the climate of California. Sometimes the climate of San Francisco has made me cross. Sometimes I have thought that the winds in summer were too cold, that the fogs in summer were too thick. But whenever I have crossed the continent - when I have emerged from New York at ninety-five degrees, and entered Chicago at one hundred degrees - when I have been breathing the dust of alkali deserts and the fiery air of sagebrush plains - these are the times when I have always been buoyed up by the anticipation of inhaling the salt air of San Francisco Bay.
If ever a summer wanderer is glad to get back to his native land, it is I, returning to my native fog. Like the prodigal youth who returned to his home and filled himself with husks, so I always yearn in summer to return to mine, and fill myself up with fog. Not a thin, insignificant mist, but a fog - a thick fog - one of those rich pea-soup August fogs that blow in from the Pacific Ocean over San Francisco.
When I leave the heated capitals of other lands and get back to California uncooked, I always offer up a thank-offering to Santa Niebla, Our Lady of the Fogs. Out near the Presidio, where Don Joaquin de Arillaga, the old comandante, revisits the glimpses of the moon, clad in rusty armor, with his Spanish spindle-shanks thrust into tall leathern boots - there some day I shall erect a chapel to Santa Niebla. And I have vowed to her as an ex-voto a silver fog-horn, wh ~ Jerome Hart

Michigan isn't just cold in December; it's artic. ~ Lamec Mariita

So she moved away from the carving of the mythical stag, instantly cold as she severed contact with the delightful heat living within the stone. Part of her could have sworn that ancient, strange power was sad to see her go. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Camus had said in his 'Carnets' that the lives of others appear always, from the outside, to have a completion our own dismally lacks. Only when we understand this as a projection - that our lives, too, are unclosed and contingent - do we approach maturity. Alice felt immature. She felt that she was a spy in the cold. ~ Gail Jones

What's going on between us?"
I don't know. I rubbed my hand over my face before glancing at Echo. A hint of her cleavage peeked from her shirt. Damn, she was sexy as hell. I wanted her, badly. Would one night be enough, even if she gave it to me? Echo already felt like a heavy drug. The kind I avoided on purpose - crack, heroin, meth. The ones that screwed with your mind, crept into your blood and left you powerless, helpless. If she gave her body to me, would i be able to let go or would i be sucked into that black veil, hooks embedded into my skin, sentenced to death by the emotion i reserved for my brothers-love? "I want you."
"Do you? Really? Because these scars are sexy."
How did she see her self? "I don't give a fuck about your scars."
She stalked toward me, hips swaying side to side, eyes hardened with anger. Echo pushed her body agaist mine, parts of her fitting perfectly into parts of me. I swore under my breath, fighting for control over my body.
"How are you going to react when we 're this close and you take off my shirt? Are you still going to want me when you see red and white lines? Are you going to flinch each time you accidentally touch my arms and feel the raised skin? How about when i touch you?"
She pulled away from me, leaving my body cold after experiencing her warmth. "Or will you forbid that? Will you tell me how to dress or what i'm allowed to take off?"
Her anger only fed mine. "For the last time I don't give ~ Katie McGarry

Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colors to a fast friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor misery, nor place, nor destiny, can alter or diminish ~ John Lyly

She hugs me. It's tentative at first, a little scared, and yes, a little repulsed, but then she melts into it. She rests her head against my cold neck and embraces me. Unable to believer what's happening, I put my arm around her and just hold her.
I almost swear I can feel my heart thumping. But it must just be hers, pressed tightly against my chest. ~ Isaac Marion

They all shared a certain coolness, a cruel, mannered charm which was not modern in the least but had the strange cold breath of the ancient world : they were magnificent creatures, such eyes, such hands, such looks - sic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat. ~ Donna Tartt

When 'Rookie Blue' began, I was so proud to be a Canadian on a Canadian show that was getting fans in America. I'm so used to working on American projects with Americans, it was a big deal for me to be on a show that showcases our talent ... our 'peeps.' ~ Missy Peregrym

Le Carre's voice - patrician, cold, brilliant and amused - was perfect for the wilderness-of-mirrors undertow of the Cold War, and George Smiley is the all-time harassed bureaucrat of spy fiction. ~ Alan Furst

My favorite animal to hunt is probably elk. There's nothing like the sound of a bugling bull splitting the cold air at first light. And that smell is unmistakable. Once you experience their musk in the wild there's no going back! A close second would be a varmint hunt. ~ Chris Pratt

They were all joking about the party at my place when they walked away. As I uncapped my drink, I noticed Michael was hanging back a bit.
"Got something on your mind?" I called out, gesturing at him with my chin.
He was a good player, he worked hard on the field, and I respected him. I got the feeling, though, that I wasn't going to like what he wanted to say. I could tell by the hesitation in his face and body language. He probably disagreed with some of the plays I wanted to try tonight and didn't want to piss me off in fear I would freeze him out on the field.
But I wasn't like that. I left personal shit in the locker room. There was no room for drama in the game.
He walked back over in front of me as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder. "I'm not sure I should say anything."
"Just say it, man. It's cool."
"I saw your girl this morning." He started, and everything in me went cold.
This wasn't about football. This was personal.
"You looking at Rimmel?" I asked, my voice calm and low.
His eyes widened a little, but he shook his head. "No, man. I probably wouldn't have known it was her, but she was wearing your hoodie."
I nodded for him to continue.
"She was in the hall, outside her class," he said, glancing at me.
He needed to get to the fucking point already. I was losing patience.
"That guy Zach was with her. It looked pretty intense."
I jerked upright. "What?" I growled.
What the fu ~ Cambria Hebert

Now that Dad was gone I was starting to see how mortality was bound up in things like that cold, arc-lit sky. How the world is full of signs and wonders that come, and go, and if you are lucky you might see them. Once, twice. Perhaps never again. The albums on my mother's shelves are full of family photographs. But also other things. A starling with a crooked beak. A day of hoarfrost and smoke. A cherry tree thick with blossom. Thunderclouds, lightning strikes, comets and eclipses: celestial events terrifying in their blind distances but reassuring you, too, that the world is for ever, though you are only a blink in its course. ~ Helen Macdonald

I feel wicked sleeping in a warm bed, while my dearest friends have been knocked down or have fallen into a gutter somewhere out in the cold night. I get frightened when I think of close friends who have now been delivered into the hands of the cruelest brutes that walk the earth. And all because they are Jews! ~ Anne Frank