Ice That Sounds Quotes & Sayings

Nothing is more unappealing than running against a colleague. — Marcy Kaptur

One of the masked women imitates the sounds she hears and the ubiquitous tune, as she sways and runs her hand through her hair.
A rutting mare, a slender block of ice, warm for others but not for herself, she seems to be split in two: fire from the waist down, straight lines above.
Growing more sensual by the minute, more labile and smiling, her mask redder, flame is her nest, the flash of her eyes stony gray. — Homero Aridjis

while Killian glanced nervously at a squad of soldiers marching down the street. When the soldiers left, Killian darted down an alleyway until they reached a maze of warehouses. Celestia cast protesting eyes at Killian, but the twin ignored her. As they jogged along, Talis could hear the lashing of whips inside warehouses, followed by groans and cries for mercy. His skin tingled as if covered in ice as the agonizing sounds trailed behind him. Soon they reached a smaller, dilapidated warehouse with an obese, thuggish guard standing watch outside. He turned as they approached and gave — John Forrester

It's curious how it gets you down to have a sticky neck. — George Orwell

I intended to concentrate throughout the summer on matters of extreme urgency: ocean waves breaking in the sunlight and swirls inside oyster shells and the mystery of the sound of ice hitting the sides of a glass. In the afternoon, the ice makes only this gentle, clicking, almost tinkling sound. Yet at night it sounds like gravel being poured into a barrel. Why is ice louder at night than it is in the daytime? Let me put on my shoes and we'll go out and investigate. — Jimmy Breslin

The moon grew plump and pale as a peeled apple, waned into the passing nights, then showed itself again as a thin silver crescent in the twilit western sky. The shed of leaves became a cascade of red and gold and after a time the trees stood skeletal against a sky of weathered tin. The land lay bled of its colors. The nights lengthened, went darker, brightened in their clustered stars. The chilled air smelled of woodsmoke, of distances and passing time. Frost glimmered on the morning fields. Crows called across the pewter afternoons. The first hard freeze cast the countryside in ice and trees split open with sounds like whipcracks. Came a snow flurry one night and then a heavy falling the next day, and that evening the land lay white and still under a high ivory moon. — James Carlos Blake

Hi-ho, hi-ho, its off to work we go. — Candace Knoebel

I compose with bells a lot. Bells and breath. Both things you react to without thinking about it. Bells traditionally give us orders: come to the desk, the truck is backing up, the ice cream is here, it's time to go to church. They're sounds our brains are already associated with. — Sxip Shirey

He may have confused honor with with with ruthlessness. — T. J. Stiles

Well, I am very happy that I was able to play a part in bringing music from the streets onto the radio and into modern culture, I worked very hard and always believed in the sounds I was creating. — Ice-T

You are not going to find yourself anywhere except right where you are. — Vanna Bonta

It was one of those bitter mornings when the whole of nature is shiny, brittle, and hard, like crystal. The trees, decked out in frost, seem to have sweated ice; the earth resounds beneath one's feet; the tiniest sounds carry a long way in the dry air; the blue sky is bright as a mirror, and the sun moves through space in icy brilliance, casting on the frozen world rays which bestow no warmth upon anything. — Guy De Maupassant

Ultimately I am happy that everybody is embracing hip hop and the sounds from the streets. — Ice-T

Mad' sounds dashing, daring and admirable when you hold the tattered flag in the midst of battle and expired natives lie all over the carpet with holes in 'em that you put there. 'Mad' is less impressive written on a form by a commissioner of lunacy as you're turned over to the hospitallers of St Mary of Bedlam to be dunked in ice water because your latest 'scrape' was running starkers down Oxford Street while gibbering like a baboon. — Kim Newman

Sometimes you win by losing. — Jeremy Jackson

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. — Skitch Henderson

I'm not sure a real man would smoke something that sounds like a mixed drink ice cream cone. — Elle Lothlorien

I have no idea where my pathetic nature comes from. If I thought about it too long, it would depress me. — Steve Carell

Running away?" He taunted, as I drew my glamour to me, feeling it surge beneath my skin. "Always a coward, weren't you, prince? Never had the guts to really go for the kill."
"You're right," I murmured, startling him. He frowned in wary surprise, and I smiled. "I always regretted my words against Puck. There was always a part of me that didn't want to go through with it." I lowered my blade, touching the tip to the floor. Ice spread from the point of the weapon, coating the ground and the walls, freezing the mirrors with sharp crinkling sounds.
"But with you," I continued, narrowing my eyes, "it's different. You're the part of him that I hate. The part that revels in the chaos you cause, the lives you destroy. And I can say this with complete certainty - killing you will be a pleasure. — Julie Kagawa

When I make records I have full control of everything and I know how it sounds before it comes out, with films it's outta my hands. — Ice-T

He hears men's voices, shouts, so evil and grim he hears their names: Tin Tin, Fun Boy, T-Bird, Top Dollar and Tom Tom. The sounds sink into his heart like ice and brun in his head with a heat so intense it glows white. — James O'Barr

I loved the way drink made me feel, and I loved it's special power of deflection, it's ability to shift my focus away from my own awareness of self and onto something else, something less painful than my own feelings. I loved the sounds of drink: the slide of a cork as it eased out of a wine bottle, the distinct glug-glug of booze pouring into a glass, the clatter of ice cubes in a tumbler. I loved the rituals, the camaraderie of drinking with others, the warming, melting feeling of ease and courage it gave me. — Caroline Knapp

It's definitely broken," my mom says [ ... ]
"Maybe it's unplugged or something," [ ... ]
"Honey, it's broken," my mom says. She sounds like she's trying to break it to me gently. I can't really blame her. The other day she told me there was no more vanilla ice cream, and I burst into tears right in the middle of the kitchen. She obviously knows I'm fragile. — Lauren Barnholdt

And the Flatline aligned the nose of Kuang's sting with the center of the dark below. And dove. Case's sensory input warped with their velocity. His mouth filled with an aching taste of blue. His eyes were eggs of unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sounds of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine spines. The spines split, bisected, split again, exponential growth under the dome of the Tessier-Ashpool ice. — William Gibson

There's an art to crying without a sound, and I'm a master. But — Courtney C. Stevens

Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful. — Regina Brett

I can always see something of myself in the characters I play. — Donnie Wahlberg

In the twilight of dawn, when his ears are still fresh to the day's first sounds, he can hear clearer than at any other time of day. He turns his head back and forth, cocking his ears to each direction. Sometimes, he closes his eyes to listen better. He hears the branches cracking from the frost, the groan of the snow beneath his feet, the rumbling of the lake ice, the timber in the house shrinking and shifting, sometimes he thinks he can even hear the clouds sliding across the sky. — Shandi Mitchell

That the full facts have never been revealed to the general — Arthur Conan Doyle

And I sit down at the kitchen table and realize that Mom really died. That she'll never come back. And that I am alone. Cold hands reach out for me, threaten to pull me into a dark place where I might never escape, and I let them. It's like I'm trapped in a block of ice that nothing can penetrate. Everything around me is just a blur of colour, a flash of movement, garbled sounds. I can't quite decipher and don't want to. Time passes like sludge — Michelle Krys

The way to beat Luke," he said. "If I'm right, it's the only way you'll stand a chance." I took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm listening." Nico glanced inside my room. His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that ... is that blue birthday cake?" He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he'd ever even been invited to one. :Come inside for cake and ice cream," I said. "It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about. — Rick Riordan

Winter will pass, the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur - this lovely world, these precious days ... — E.B. White

He was touched in the cavity where his heart should have been, in that nest of addled eggs, where the birds of heaven would have lived if they had not been whistled away, by the fervour of this reproach. — Charles Dickens

One of the frustrations of having a mind trained to think and consider possibilities was that it couldn't simply be stopped once engaged. — Mel Odom

The day I arrived in Yakutsk with my colleague Peter Osnos of The Washington Post, it was 46 below. When our plane landed, the door was frozen solidly shut, and it took about half an hour for a powerful hot-air blower- standard equipment at Siberian airports- to break the icy seal. Stepping outside was like stepping onto another planet, for at those low temperatures nothing seems quite normal. The air burns. Sounds are brittle. Every breath hovers in a strangle slow-motion cloud, adding to the mist of ice that pervades the city and blurs the sun. When the breath freezes into ice dust and falls almost silently to the ground, Siberians call it the whisper of stars. — David K. Shipler

In the middle of the night I am awakened by a sound. I sit up abruptly in bed. I hear it again. It's music. Wait, it sounds like the ice cream man, in our house. Is this some kind of twisted nightmare? The flipping ice cream man, breaking in to chop us all up in our beds to the tune of 'Zippity Do Dah'? ... My heart slows. I remember. There is no psycho ice cream man here. It is just our new musical soap dispenser ... — Deb Caletti

There is no miserable place waiting for you, no hell realm, sitting and waiting like Alaska - waiting to turn you into ice cream. But whatever you call it - hell or the suffering realms - it is something that you enter by creating a world of neurotic fantasy and believing it to be real. It sounds simple, but that's exactly what happens. — Lama Thubten Yeshe

June Afternoon"

Didn't I tell you everything is possible in this deja vu?
Try the river boat, the carousel, feed the pigeons, Bar-B-Q.
Look at all the people, happy faces all around.
Smiling, throwing kisses, busy making lazy sounds

It's a bright June afternoon, it never gets dark.
Wah-wah! Here comes the sun.
Get your green, green tambourine, let's play in the park.
Wah-wah! Here comes the sun

Some folks are on blankets, slowly daydreaming
and reaching for their food.
Let's go buy an ice-cream and a magazine with an attitude
and put on a cassette, we can pretend that you're a star
cos life's so very simple just like la-la-la

It's a bright June afternoon...

There's a painter painting his masterpiece.
There are some squirrels jumping in the trees,
There's a wide-eyed boy with a red balloon.
All my life I've longed for this afternoon. — Roxette

Christmas ribbons decked every crystal ball knocker on every sparkling door as far as the eye could see. Through the snowy streets of the Veiled Village, Echoes and Sounds rushed to and fro, their shimmering clothes looking like pouring rain or ice or waves. Before them multi-colored parcels fluttered like strange birds carried on small see-through wings, and every once in a while two parcels would collide and rain down gifts. — Dew Pellucid

Embrace all that you are and strive to become all that God has created you to be. — Clay Rivers

What is it with men? Are they totally incapable of faithfulness?" "Depends. It's a character issue more than a sexual one." Nic closed her eyes in embarrassment and swallowed a groan. She'd forgotten about her visitor. Lovely. Just lovely. — Emily March