Ice Quotes
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He's such a good player, who gets the puck to the net and helps in particular on the power play because he finds the open man. It's hard to find players who see the ice as well as he does and can make that pass.
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I'm relentless. My mother says I could sell ice to the Eskimos.
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I think he's going to be OK. From the way he looked on the ice and when he left the ice to this afternoon, it's amazing.
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He has a very good feel for the ice. He can do things on the ice that most people can't.
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When you're on the ice, you have very little time, you see very little, and everything happens really quick.
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All we really have when we pretend to write about the future is the moment in which we are writing. That's why every imagined future obsoletes like an ice cream melting on the way back from the corner store.
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Patience is like ice cold water running through your veins, but our love will be immense.
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Our ice cream man was found lying on the floor of his van covered with hundreds and thousands. Police say that he topped himself.
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The Arctic Ocean encircles with a belt of eternal ice the desert confines of Siberia and North America--the uttermost limits of the Old and New worlds, separated by the narrow, channel, known as Behring's Straits.
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Maybe he was cold, but sometimes ice burned.
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A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.
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To see McCabe back on the ice after 30 seconds speaks for itself ... case closed.
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For those of you who don't understand Reaganomics, it's based on the principle that the rich and the poor will get the same amount of ice. In Reaganomics, however, the poor get all of theirs in winter.
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He's a very gifted offensive player. He's definitely helping me score goals. He's going to be able to find me on the ice, and I'm going to find him.
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I am as silent as death. Do this: Go to your bedroom. Your nice, safe, warm bedroom that is not a glass coffin behind a morgue door. Lie down on your bed not made of ice. Stick your fingers in your ears. Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. Because what if I am dead? How can someone without a beating heart, without breathing lungs live like I do? I must be dead. And this is my greatest fear: After 301 years, when they pull my glass coffin from this morgue, and they let my body thaw like chicken meat on the kitchen counter, I will be just like I am now. I will spend all of eternity trapped in my dead body. There is nothing beyond this. I will be locked within myself forever. And I want to scream. I want to throw open my eyes wake up and not be alone with myself anymore, but I can't. I can't.
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I could have melted ice, my smile was so bright.
