Then, there’s the one about the fellow who complained of the excessive heat the other day, when the thermometer read 90. ‘It isn’t hot, brother,’ comforted a war correspondent just back from Ethiopia, ‘until the chair gets up when you do!’
walter winchell
You can’t get mad at weather because weather’s not about you. Apply that lesson to most other aspects of life.
douglas coupland
More murders are committed at ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit than any other temperature. Over one hundred — it’s too hot to move. Under ninety, cool enough to survive. But right at ninety-two degrees lies the apex of irritability, everything is itches and hair and sweat and cooked pork. The brain becomes a rat rushing around a red-hot maze. The least thing — a word, a look, a sound, the drop of a hair and — irritable murder. Irritable murder, there’s a pretty and terrifying phrase for you.
ray bradbury
I think all songs should have weather in them. Names of towns and streets, and they should have a couple of sailors. I think those are just song prerequisites.
tom waits
Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed, and pulsing.
Truman Capote