George R. R. Martin Quotes

Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it.

I'd just as soon freeze to death.

Colder by the hour, more dead with every breath.

The scholarly authorities on freezing to death seem to be, unsurprisingly, Canadians.

It is so cold out there, my head nearly fell off.

We have had a very severe frost and deep snow this month. My thermometer was one day fourteen degrees and a half below the freezing point, within doors.

I was so cold the other day, I almost got married.

New York cold gets into your bones, and you can't move.

It drove me crazy, Scotland. It was cold. It was abuse. It was snowing and everything. I was so cold that one day I faked an injury to go to the locker room.

A little slower, sweetheart. Cape Cod is freezing over.

We all have secret lives. The life of excretion; the world of inappropriate sexual fantasies; our real hopes, our terror of death; our experience of shame; the world of pain; and our dreams. No one else knows these lives. Consciousness is solitary. Each person lives in that bubble universe that rests under the skull, alone.

It's cold out. It's even cold in Florida. So cold today that Katherine Harris put on a third layer of makeup.

The cold, inconsiderate of persons, tingles your blood, benumbs your feet, freezes a man like an apple.

There are only two worlds - your world, which is the real world, and other worlds, the fantasy. Worlds like this are worlds of the human imagination: their reality, or lack of reality, is not important. What is important is that they are there. these worlds provide an alternative. Provide an escape. Provide a threat. Provide a dream, and power; provide refuge, and pain. They give your world meaning. They do not exist; and thus they are all that matters.

When the voice of your friend or the page of your book sinks into democratic equality with the pattern of the wallpaper, the feel of your clothes, your memory of last night, and the noises from the road, you are falling asleep. The highly selective consciousness enjoyed by fully alert men, with all its builded sentiments and consecrated ideals, has as much to be called real as the drowsy chaos, and more.

Below -60° cold will find the last microscopic touch of oil in an instrument and stop it dead. If there is the slightest breeze, you can hear your breath freeze as it floats away, making a sound like that of Chinese firecrackers. As does the morning dew, rime coats every exposed object. And if you work too hard and breathe too deeply, your lungs will sometimes feel as if they were on fire.

If it’s zero degrees outside today and it’s supposed to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold is it going to be?

It was so cold in New York City today that the Statue of Liberty had her torch under her dress.

Cold! If the thermometer had been an inch longer we'd all have frozen to death!

It is cold down in Washington, DC. They had to use an ice scraper on John Boehner's face to get the tears off, it was so cold.

We always know when we are awake that we cannot be dreaming even though when actually dreaming we feel all this may be real.

It’s strange how dreams get under your skin and give your heart a test for what’s real and what’s imaginary.

I kept having dreams all night. I thought they were touching me with their fingers. But dreams don't have fingers, they have fists, so it must have been scorpions.

I want to write about people who dream and wait for the night to end, who long for the light so they can hold the ones they love.