Heat Quotes

“Ô, Sunlight! The most precious gold to be found on Earth.”
― Roman Payne

“He who cannot put his thoughts on ice should not enter into the heat of dispute.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human: A Book for Free Spirits

“The thing with heat is, no matter how cold you are, no matter how much you need warmth, it always, eventually, becomes too much.”
― Victoria Aveyard, Glass Sword

“He didn't want to give the cartel any time to persuade Emiliana into accepting a more enticing offer. He had reservations about her loyalty and feared she might make a deal without Elpidio's consent.”
― Carolyn M. Bowen, Legacy of Shadows: An International Crime Thriller

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back."

-Plato”
― Jessica Clare, Stranded with a Billionaire

“Maycomb was a tired old town, even in 1932 when I first knew it. Somehow, it was hotter then. Men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon after their three o'clock naps. And by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frosting from sweating and sweet talcum. The day was twenty-four hours long, but it seemed longer. There's no hurry, for there's nowhere to go and nothing to buy...and no money to buy it with.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Louisiana in September was like an obscene phone call from nature. The air - moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh - felt as if it were being exhaled into one's face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing.”
― Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

“Many people think it’s normal to cheat on their partners. But they are unaware that by doing so, they will never be able to reach the depths of love.”
― Rebecca Harlem, The Pink Cadillac

“It was always so hot, and everyone was so polite, and everything was all surface but underneath it was like a bomb waiting to go off. I always felt that way about the South, that beneath the smiles and southern hospitality and politeness were a lot of guns and liquor and secrets.”
― James McBride, The Color of Water: A Black Man's Tribute to His White Mother

“The trees, in both Earth and Heaven, exist in the same form.”
― Rebecca Harlem, The Pink Cadillac

“One day we took the children to see a goldsmith refine gold after the ancient manner of the East. He was sitting beside his little charcoal fire. ("He shall sit as a refiner"; the gold- or silversmith never leaves his crucible once it is on the fire.) In the red glow lay a common curved roof tile; another tile covered it like a lid. This was the crucible. In it was the medicine made of salt, tamarind fruit and burnt brick dust, and imbedded in it was the gold. The medicine does its appointed work on the gold, "then the fire eats it," and the goldsmith lifts the gold out with a pair of tongs, lets it cool, rubs it between his fingers, and if not satisfied puts it back again in fresh medicine. This time he blows the fire hotter than it was before, and each time he puts the gold into the crucible, the heat of the fire is increased; "it could not bear it so hot at first, but it can bear it now; what would have destroyed it then helps it now." "How do you know when the gold is purified?" we asked him, and he answered, "When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure.”
― Amy Carmichael, Gold Cord

“Walking the streets of Charleston in the late afternoons of August was like walking through gauze or inhaling damaged silk.”
― Pat Conroy

“What grows best in the heat: fantasy; unreason; lust.”
― Salman Rushdie, Midnight’s Children

“The month of August had turned into a griddle where the days just lay there and sizzled.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

“God, it was hot! Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk; this kind of heat would fry an egg inside the chicken.”
― Rachel Caine

“The sidewalks were haunted by dust
ghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up,
swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice on
the lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol-
lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed a
volcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every-
where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritable
dogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon-
taneous combustion at three in the morning.

Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element for
element. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no
sound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep
over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serene
vapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were
brass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high-
tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threat
above the unslept houses.
The cicadas sang louder and yet louder.
The sun did not rise, it overflowed.”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

“Ice is most welcome in a cold drink on a hot day.

But in the heart of winter, you want a warm hot mug with your favorite soothing brew to keep the chill away.

When you don’t have anything warm at hand, even a memory can be a small substitute.

Remember a searing look of intimate eyes.

Receive the inner fire.”
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“Adrian had always found it amusing that a guy could be drilling Stacia up her ass while she considered herself to be a virgin. Her intent had been to present herself as such when she found "Mr. Right.”
― Jess C Scott, Master & Servant

“When I feel the heat, I see the light.”
― Everett Dirksen

“That weekend the city blushed with a great heat wave but on Monday it rained, cooling the ache in the street’s burn.”
― Daniel Amory, Minor Snobs

“The heat made people crazy. They woke from their damp bedsheets and went in search of a glass of water, surprised to find that when their vision cleared, they were holding instead the gun they kept hidden in the bookcase.”
― Kristin Hannah, Summer Island

“Ah earth you old extinguisher.”
― Samuel Beckett, Happy Days

“Listen. Look. Desire is a house. Desire needs closed space. Desire runs out of doors or windows, or slats or pinpricks, it can’t fit under the sky, too large. Close the doors. Close the windows. As soon as you laugh from nerves or make a joke or say something just to say something or get all involved with the bushes, then you blow open a window in your house of desire and it can’t heat up as well. Cold draft comes in.”
― Aimee Bender, Willful Creatures

“A growing heat, like a million blazing suns all focused on me, lit my insides. It felt like I was being cooked in the Gabriella Roast Cooker, me spinning around-and-around to heat my flesh evenly. For some reason I was having trouble comprehending the sudden change in my revolving world as I swelled with a horrible, billowing fire.”
― Laura Kreitzer, Abyss

“It's hot,' [Mulder] said, dropping on the bench beside [Scully].
'It's July, Mulder,' Garson reminded him. 'It's New Mexico. What did you expect?'
'Heat I can get at home. An oven I already have in my apartment.”
― Charles Grant, The X-Files: Whirlwind

“One upside of the heat. Kind of cool to see a cat pant.”
― Jonah Goldberg

“The heat of youth is not more opposed to safety than the coldness of age.”
― François de La Rochefoucauld

“I can't believe this heat," Abbey said, taking her tunic and pulling it over her head. Underneath was a form-fitting top that showed a figure unaccustomed to idleness or excess. Kip stared at her the way he had at the shiney curves of the steel horse back in the garage. "Can you imagine what it must have been like hundreds of years ago, when weather changed just a few times a year?" she said, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "Yeah, it must have looked great," Kip said. "What do you mean looked great?" Abbey said, turning her eye on Kip. "Must have been great, like you said," he corrected.”
― Shawn Keenan, The Intern's Tale

“Charlestonians never sweat. We sometimes dew up like hydrangea bushes or well-tended lawns.”
― Pat Conroy, South of Broad

“Outside, the sun was crackling.”
― Juan Rulfo, Pedro Páramo