“Dona Crista laughed a bit. "Oh, Pip, I'd be glad for you to try. But do believe me, my dear friend, touching her heart is like bathing in ice."I imagine. I imagine it feels like bathing in ice to the person touching her. But how does it feel to her? Cold as she is, it must surely burn like fire.”

“Oh, Pipo, I'd be glad for you to try. But do believe me, my dear friend, touching her heart is like bathing in ice"I imagine. I imagine it feels like bathing in ice to the person touching her. But how does it feel to her? Cold as she is, it must surely burn like fire.”

“My Love Is Like To Ice, And I To FireMy love is like to ice, and I to fire;How comes it then that this her cold so greatIs not dissolv'd through my so hot desire,But harder grows the more I her entreat?Or how comes it that my exceeding heatIs not delay’d by her heart-frozen cold;But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,And feel my flames augmented manifold!What more miraculous thing may be told,That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice;And ice, which is congeal’d with senseless cold,Should kindle fire by wonderful device!Such is the power of love in gentle mind,That it can alter all the course of kind.”

“You are ice and fire,The touch of you burns my hands like snow.You are cold and flame.You are the crimson of amaryllis,The silver of moon-touched magnolias.When I am with you,My heart is a frozen pondGleaming with agitated torches.”

“You are ice and fire The touch of you burns my hands like snow”

“As i thought about all that surgar running through her veins, i imagined it as a kind of liquid candy. But when i asked her if it tasted sweet, she laughed quietly and said no. It stung, she said. But she needed it. She had to have it. All i could imagine was that candied water burning inside my mother. Like an invisible fire that i could not see or taste or touch or stop.”