I don't mean to sound bitter, cold, or cruel, but I am, so that's how it comes out.

I don't mean to sound bitter, cold, or cruel, but I am, so that's how it comes out.

Ellen had said that her mother was afraid of the ocean, that it was too cold and too big. The sky was, too, thought Annemarie. The whole world was: too cold, too big. And too cruel.

And it really is a good feeling to get up there and make that sound. I'm not stuck in a time warp, because I can use as many of the old songs as I want to, just the favorites.

I sound like Homer. I mean Winslow Homer.

It was cold out there, bitter, biting, cutting, piercing, hyperborean, marmoreal cold, and there were all these Minnesotans running around outdoors, happy as lambs in the spring.