Quotes on Heat

Those who cannot understand how to put their thoughts on ice should not enter into the heat of debate.

Come near to the holy men and women of the past and you will soon feel the heat of their desire after God. They mourned for Him, they prayed and wrestled and sought for Him day and night, in season and out, and when they found Him, the finding was all the sweeter for the long seeking.

Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

In the present state of the world, it is evident that the control we have gained of physical energies, heat, light, electricity, etc., without having first secured control of our use of ourselves is a perilous affair. Without the control of our use of ourselves, our use of other things is blind; it may lead to anything.

Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is not like faith, or love that exist just as does light and heat. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

The cheapness of wine seems to be a cause, not of drunkenness, but of sobriety. ...People are seldom guilty of excess in what is their daily fare... On the contrary, in the countries which, either from excessive heat or cold, produce no grapes, and where wine consequently is dear and a rarity, drunkenness is a common vice.

Is this a dagger which I see before me, _x000D_ _x000D_ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. _x000D_ _x000D_ I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. _x000D_ _x000D_ Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible _x000D_ _x000D_ To feeling as to sight? or art thou but _x000D_ _x000D_ A dagger of the mind, a false creation, _x000D_ _x000D_ Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

I am in love with this world . . . I have climbed its mountains, roamed its forests, sailed its waters, crossed its deserts, felt the sting of its frosts, the oppression of its heats, the drench of its rains, the fury of its winds, and always have beauty and joy waited upon my goings and comings.

The laws of light and of heat translate each other;-so do the laws of sound and colour; and so galvanism, electricity and magnetism are varied forms of this selfsame energy.

Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

As a man sow, shall he reap. and I know that talk is cheap. But the heat of the battle is as sweet as the victory.

Coolness and absence of heat and haste indicate fine qualities.

Each of us lives within the universe - the prison - of his own brain. Projecting from it are millions of fragile sensory nerve fibers, in groups uniquely adapted to sample the energetic states of the world around us: heat, light, force, and chemical composition. That is all we ever know of it directly; all else is logical inference.

I don't smoke but I keep a match box in my pocket, when my heart slips towards sin, I burn the matchstick and heat my palm with it, then say to myself, "Ali you can't even bear this heat, how would you bear the unbearable heat of hellfire?"

Evolution is as much a fact as the heat of the sun.

The fact that this chain of life existed [at volcanic vents on the seafloor] in the black cold of the deep sea and was utterly independent of sunlight - previously thought to be the font of all Earth's life - has startling ramifications. If life could flourish there, nurtured by a complex chemical process based on geothermal heat, then life could exist under similar conditions on planets far removed from the nurturing light of our parent star, the Sun.

With aching hands and bleeding feet_x000D_ _x000D_ We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;_x000D_ _x000D_ We bear the burden and the heat_x000D_ _x000D_ Of the long day, and wish 'twere done._x000D_ _x000D_ Not till the hours of light return_x000D_ _x000D_ All we have built do we discern.

The tamer my love, the farther away it is from love. In fierceness, in heat, in longing, in risk, I find something of love's nature. In my desire for you, I burn at the right temperature to walk through love's fire. So when you ask me why I cannot love you more calmly, I answer that to love you calmly is not to love you at all.

You are not Dostoevsky,' said the woman... 'You never can tell...' he answered. 'Dostoevsky is dead,' the woman said, a bit uncertainly. 'I protest!' he said with heat, 'Dostoevsky is immortal!

I want your sun to reach my raindrops, so your heat can raise my soul upward like a cloud.