Melted Snowman Quotes

He was the second snowman to be melting away before her eyes, only this one was different. It was a paradox. The colder he became, the more he melted.

Liz looks at the tissue box, which is decorated with drawings of snowmen engaged in various holiday activities. One of the snowmen is happily placing a smiling rack of gingerbread men in an oven. Baking gingerbread men, or any cooking for that matter, is probably close to suicide for a snowman, Liz thinks. Why would a snowman voluntarily engage in an activity that would in all likelihood melt him? Can snowmen even eat? Liz glares at the box.

Some people are worth melting for.

what does it take to just be kind? They could see she was melting away like a snowman in front of their faces, but they couldn’t do it. It was brutal.

For hours she sat with him as he shivered and slept. 'Don't die' she whispered. 'Please, Max, just don't die.' He was the second snowman to be melting away before her eyes, only this one was different. It was a paradox. The colder he became, the more he melted.

He was the second snowman to be melting away before her eyes, only this one was different. It was a paradox. The colder he became, the more he melted.

My sense of time seems to be melting, like a kid's snowman in a January thaw.

When you drink alone over a long period of time, you’re not deluding yourself into thinking you’re clearheaded and bright. You’re falling apart, you know it, and you just want to slip away, numb as a snowman, melting until you’re gone.

I only have one story now. The story was heroin. It was made out of sensation, not words; it was invisible and murderous and unstoppable. Sam disappeared from her slowly, like a snowman melting, until all Blanca had left of him was a pool of freezing-cold blue water, arctic cold, sorrow colored, evaporating with every year. She did her best to hold onto him, but it was impossible, like carrying ice into the desert or making time stand still. After the final fight when Sam moved out, Blanca saw him less and less often. He no longer had a presence; he was like the outline of a person, an absence rather than a full-fledged human being.

My Snowman sadly bowed his head in March, one sunny day, and this is what he softly said before he went away: 'In the middle of December I was handsome, round, and tall, now I hardly can remember those December days at all. Oh my stomach's started shrinking, I am losing all my form, and I'm thinking as I'm shrinking that I wish it weren't warm. I can feel my shoulders stooping as my body's getting thin, my nose has started drooping and my mouth has lost its grin, I am surely getting shorter, there is little left of me, my head is but a quarter of the size it used to be. I am getting hard of hearing and my vision's little use, for my ears are disappearing and my eyes are coming loose. Through the icy weeks of winter I stood prouder than a king, now I'm thinner than a splinter, winter's melting into spring!'

The Spine of the Snowman" On the moon, an old caretaker in faded clothes is holed up in his pressurized cabin. The fireplace is crackling, casting sparks onto the instrument panel. His eyes are flickering over the earth, looking for Illinois, looking for his hometown, Gnarled Heritage, until his sight is caught in its chimneys and frosted aerials. He thinks back on the jeweler's son who skated the pond behind his house, and the local supermarket with aisles that curved off like country roads. Yesterday the robot had been asking him about snowmen. He asked if they had minds. No, the caretaker said, but he'd seen one that had a raccoon burrowed up inside the head. "Most had a carrot nose, some coal, buttons, and twigs for arms, but others were more complex. Once they started to melt, things would rise up from inside the body. Maybe a gourd, which was an organ, or a long knobbed stick, which was the spine of the snowman." The robot shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Snowmen My ancestor, a man of Himalayan snow, came to Kashmir from Samarkand, carrying a bag of whale bones: heirlooms from sea funerals. His skeleton carved from glaciers, his breath arctic, he froze women in his embrace. His wife thawed into stony water, her old age a clear evaporation. This heirloom, his skeleton under my skin, passed from son to grandson, generations of snowmen on my back. They tap every year on my window, their voices hushed to ice. No, they won’t let me out of winter, and I’ve promised myself, even if I’m the last snowman, that I’ll ride into spring on their melting shoulders.

From the project’s beginning, Frenda was certain there would be disapproval from A&M and especially Richard. According to her, his negative opinion of Karen’s solo work signaled a turning point in the siblings’ relationship and one that Karen never seemed to get over. “He told her it was shit,” Frenda says. “All Karen ever wanted was his approval. It could have turned everything in her life around, but it wasn’t there. What’s sad is that he has to live with that, and I don’t think it even fazes him. I do think he should be excused to some extent because he had his own problems, but God Almighty, what does it take to just be kind? They could see she was melting away like a snowman in front of their faces, but they couldn’t do it. It was brutal.

Snowman Why do we use a carrot to be a snowman's nose when an old potato would be more accurate since he's melting anyway?

the “egoic mind,” which is his collective term for all the Saboteurs, is like a giant snowman that melts away under the light of conscious awareness.

She stared into the dark as a couple of snowflakes swirled hither and thither, aimless, unaffected by gravity and their own will, apparently. They would land wherever chance dictated. And then they would melt and vanish. There was some comfort in that. She coughed. “What?” Trygve said. “Nothing,” she said. “I think I’m getting a cold.” Harry drifted aimlessly, without any will of his own, through the streets of Oslo. It was only when he was

Fate had somehow conspired against me, giving me a life of its choosing rather than my own. No one would really miss me if I were gone. I would slowly fade into the memories of a few, then melt away into nothingness, just like the snowman below. Faint echoes of Christmas music from the ice rink making its way upward in the cold swirling wind added to my melancholy. I was alive but not really living, stuck in a life which only took and never gave in return. It was in that moment I decided I was finished.

Don’t die,” she whispered. “Please, Max, just don’t die.” He was the second snowman to be melting away before her eyes, only this one was different. It was a paradox. The colder he became, the more he melted.

Look I found this.” Gansey jumped at the precise same moment that he recognized Noah’s voice. The dead boy sat cross legged on the end of Gansey’s mattress in the middle of the room. Gansey was relieved to see that Noah looked more firmly himself than when he’d seen him last. In his hands he held a lump of dark gray clay that he had formed into a small negative image snowman. “Frosty the clay man,” Noah said, amusing himself. “I took it from Ronan’s room. Look, it melts.” Gansey regarded it more closely as he settled himself cross legged, a mirror image from Noah. “Did he get it from a dream?” “Gas station, I think. The clay’s got metal flakes in it or something,” Noah said. “See it standing on that magnet? It slurps down and eats the magnet after a while.” They watched. They watched a lot. It moved so slowly that it took Gansey a full minute to even believe that eventually, the metallicised putty probably would engulf the magnet. “Is this supposed to be a toy?” Gansey asked. “Ages six and up.” “This is the worst toy I have ever seen.” Noah grinned. He said, “Piss up a rope.

Oscar, it’s getting dark and it’s starting to rain. We’ll never find that mitten! Come inside, Annie. I made some hot chocolate for us, and I’ve got a biscuit for Oscar. Look! The rain is melting the snowman. But what’s that spot on his chest? Gracious! Your snowman has a heart! My mitten is the heart of the snowman!

We’re not resuscitating a snowman, are we?” “Real funny, Doc.” She gave him a playful sideways glance. “Good, because I’m pretty sure defibrillators and melted snow are not a good mix.

Some people are worth melting for,” the snowman said. He tried to smile at Anna, but his mouth had begun to drip and so it came out crooked. Realizing what was happening, he panicked and moved away from the fire. “Just maybe not right this second,” he added.