Heat In The South Quotes & Sayings
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Top Heat In The South Quotes

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 afternoon was very hot, so hot that the breaking of the waves on the shore sounded like the repeated sigh of some exhausted creature, and even on the terrace under an awning the bricks were hot, and the air danced perpetually over the short dry grass. The red flowers in the stone basins were drooping with the heat, and the white blossoms which had been so smooth and thick only a few weeks ago were now dry, and their edges were curled and yellow. Only the stiff and hostile plants of the south, whose fleshy leaves seemed to be grown upon spines, still remained standing upright and defied the sun to beat them down. — Virginia Woolf

Anna's voice wasn't a beautiful voice - rough edged and sorrowful, a bit used, somehow male and female at once. Yet it had more vibrancy to it than most Danish voices, which were often thin and white and too pretty to trigger a shiver. Anna's voice had the heat of the south; it warmed Einar, as if her throat were red with coals. — David Ebershoff

Every cancer looks different. Every cancer has similarities to other cancers. And we're trying to milk those differences and similarities to do a better job of predicting how things are going to work out and making new drugs. — Harold E. Varmus

Summer came whirling out of the night and stuck fast. One morning late in November everybody got up at Cloudstreet and saw the white heat washing in through the windows. The wild oats and buffalo grass were brown and crisp. The sky was the color of kerosene. The air was thin and volatile. Smoke rolled along the tracks as men began to burn off on the embankment. Birds cut singing down to a few necessary phrases, and beneath them in the streets, the tar began to bubble. The city was full of Yank soldiers; the trams were crammed to standing with them. The river sucked up the sky and went flat and glittery right down the middle of the place and people went to it in boats and britches and barebacked. Where the river met the sea, the beaches ran north and south, white and broad as highways in a dream, and men and babies stood in the surf while gulls hung in the haze above, casting shadows on the immodest backs of the oilslicked women. — Tim Winton

Where most of the country is, well, hot - from the bone-baking dry heat of the desert to the flesh-melting humidity of Kerala in the south - Kashmir is cool: so cool, in fact, that in the winter, the temperatures can sink to sub-zero. — Hanya Yanagihara

My face is melting. The goopy blob that was my forehead is slipping south, its molten heat softening everything in its path. — T.R. Burns

My studio cube is an experiment in solar heating and design. The south wall is covered with glass planks that collect and distribute heat naturally to my work studio on the second level. — Steven Holl

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

All right gentlemen, we have a job to do. At approximately 01:30 tonight, three children made an escape. Our job is to find them and bring them back. Every minute the factory is down, I lose two thousand, seven hundred and thirty-eight dollars and forty-seven cents. Therefore, we must find them and find them fast. They were last seen heading south by southwest in three makeshift kites. We'll head in that direction, fanning out and using our heat sensors to track them. Any questions?" Tubaface raised his hand. "Yes?"
"Where do babies come from?"
"That question is wholly innapropriate to our present situation. Someone slap him. — Sean Cullen

In those sticky summer nights in South London our windows stay open and our tiny apartment becomes our secret garden. The magic of the secret garden is that it exists in our imagination. There are no limits, no borderlines. The secret garden leads to the marigolds of Mogadishu and the magnolias of Kingston and when the heat turns us sticky and sweet and unwilling to be claimed by defeat we own the night. We own our bodies. We own our lives. — Diriye Osman

Everything he saw was distasteful to him. He hated the blue and white, the intensity and definiteness, the hum and heat of the south; the landscape seemed to him as hard and as romantic as a cardboard background on the stage, and the mountain but a wooden screen against a sheet painted blue. He walked fast in spite of the heat of the sun. — Virginia Woolf

The South is the land of the sustained sibilant. Everywhere, for the appreciative visitor, the letter "s" insinuates itself in the scene: in the sound of sea and sand, in the singing shell, in the heat of sun and sky, in the sultriness of the gentle hours, in the siesta, in the stir of birds and insects. — E.B. White

Heat skittered through her belly, then directly south. "Sawyer."
In answer, he brought his head up and kissed her. Deep, hungry, tasting her in a purposely slow, thorough manner before pulling back to once again look into her eyes.
Oh, God. "Sawyer, what are we doing?" she whispered.
He shook his head. "No f#cking clue. — Jill Shalvis

In this fall - this is very tough - in this fall I'm going to take my talents to South Beach and join the Miami Heat. — LeBron James

He done his level best.
Was he a mining on the flat..
He done it with a zest..
Was he a leading of the choir..
He done his level best.
If he'd a reg'lar task to do,
He never took no rest..
Or if 'twas off and on the same..
He done his level best.
If he was preachin' on his beat,
He'd tramp from east to west,
And north to south ..in cold and heat..
He done his level best.
He'd Yank a sinner outen (Hades),
And land him with the blest;
Then snatch a prayer'n waltz in again,
And do his level best.
He'd cuss and sing and howl and pray,
And dance and drink and jest,
He done his level best.
Whate'er this man was sot to do
He done it with a zest;
No matter what his contract was,
He'd do his level best... — Mark Twain

If any of you have ever lived down south of the Mason-Dixon line, you know that late September still means summer heat. — Scott Porter

The mistakes we make when we are young are just as important to us as food or air. Without learning how to do things the wrong way, we can never learn how to do them the right way. — J.A. Brimingham

Two generations ago only a few unfortunate children ever saw anyone hit over the head with a brick, shot, rammed by a car, blown up, immolated, raped or tortured. Now all children, along with their elders, see such images every day of their lives and are expected to enjoy them ... The seven-year-old who hides his eyes in the family cops-and-robbers drama is desensitized four years later to a point where he crunches potato chips through the latest video nasty. — Penelope Leach

Most people who bother to think about plants at all tend to regard them as the mute, immobile furniture of our world - useful enough, and generally attractive, but obviously second-class citizens in the republic of life on Earth. — Stefano Mancuso

Some scientists want to replace the handshake with the fist bump. Others want to replace the fist bump with the 'tush push.' — Conan O'Brien

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

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

His proximity, that damn smile, just makes me hot in all the right places, but also pissed as hell. I don't know if I should knee him in the balls or hump his leg like a bitch in heat. — Ghiselle St. James

I'm going to take my talents to South Beach. — LeBron James

In history, the bleeding
from arbitrary beatings, forced
breedings, and choked-heat
breathing could almost be withstood
by soul-feeding songs sung,
or listlessly hummed
just to go on. — Kristen Henderson