Ellen Griswold: [leaving the house] I turned off the water, the stove, the heat and the air, locked the door, notified the police, stopped the papers. I called to get the grass cut. Did I put the timers on the living-room lights?
Clark: [after being in the desert for too long, Clark begins to go insane] Taxi! Taxi! Taxi! Dead. I'm dead. Taxi! Here boy! The heat. Darn. I'm dead. I'm finished. Hot! Hot!
Dick Jones: Every policeman knows when he joins the force that there are certain inherent risks that come with the territory. Ask any cop, he'll tell ya, "If you can't stand the heat, you better stay out of the kitchen."
Basting is evil. Basting does nothing for the meat. Why? Skin. Skin is designed to keep stuff out of the bird, so basting just lets heat out of the oven. That means the turkey will take longer to cook... so don't touch that door!
Memories are strange things. Without being something I can hold in my hand, they wield a beguiling power over me. Like a mirage in the noontime heat of summer they dance before my inner eyes and beckon me to find water where there is no water.
When the power falls on me, it buzzes in the warm, dark spaces of my skull. It stings like nettles at the tips of my fingers. The power is a fever I have felt since early childhood, a heat in the blood that leaves me flushed and unsteady, dreaming in...
There's not a thing that any of you guys can say bad about me that would hurt my feelings... I'm not coming at you, what I'm saying is that, I'm willing to take that heat for my team, if we're playing well or if we're not playing well.
[after Chief Gillespie convinced Virgil Tibbs to stay in town and finish the investigation, they both go to a mechanic's place to get Tibbs a car] Chief Gillespie: Jess. [Jess, a black mechanic, appears from under the car he is working on] Chief Gill...
Happiness. It was the place where passion, with all its dazzle and drumbeat, met something softer: homecoming and safety and pure sunbeam comfort. It was all those things, intertwined with the heat and the thrill, and it was as bright within her as a...
Adam, on the other end of the boat, looked extremely unimpressed with Ronan’s lack of heat tolerance. “I didn’t say anything.” “Whatever, man,” Ronan replied. “I know that face. You were born in hell, you’re used to it.
And oh, heaven - the crowded playhouse, the stench of perfume upon heated bodies, the silly laughter and the clatter, the party in the Royal box - the King himself present - the impatient crowd in the cheap seats stamping and shouting for the play to...
Underneath his sweetness and gentleness was the heat of a volcano. [Michael Faraday] was a man of excitable and fiery nature; but through high self-discipline he had converted the fire into a central glow and motive power of life, instead of permitti...
I am a trembling mess from hip to knee. There is a terrible heat, a looseness in my innards that makes me want to dig my fists between my thighs. It is a confusing feeling - somewhere between diarrhoea and sex - this grief that is almost genital.
A blanket could be used to suppress the will of the people. Every politician needs to keep this in mind when trying to retain power. Is America warm from the collected body heat, or from shared rage at being robbed from, lied to, and abused by the el...
There are easier ways of making sense, the connoisseurship of gesture, for example. You hold a girl's face in your hands like a vase. You lift a gun from the glove compartment and toss it out the window into the desert heat.
Everything about him enveloped her, made her crave exactly this. His possession. In her mind something relaxed; the balance shifted. She welcomed every way he could touch her, the heat from his body, the atoms of his breath. Everything.
You know," he said, his voice making me feel cold in spite of the heat, "this city can get ahold of you and pull you back no matter how hard you try to climb out. Like a grave.
...the cab of the truck heated up nicely, its windows fogging. I felt like a Dickens character. I thought about explaining that to Mouse, just to occupy my thoughts, but he was suffering enough without being forced to endure Dickens, even by proxy.
The buckets emptied quickly, and men from different squads took turns bringing water from the gully that lay towards the city, where, in the feeble shade of emaciated mulberries, a muddy stream lived out its last days in the diabolical heat.
Robbins had opened Gabby up. Her charred skin was peeled back, and her ribs were removed. She was pink inside, like steak that had been burned on a high heat but remained raw in the middle.
The waltz was the only way a young couple could touch one another, and even through gloves I could feel the heat of your grandfather's touch,'she'd tell Luc, with a wicked glimmer in her eye.
