I love to feel the temperature drop and the wind increase just before a thunderstorm. Then I climb in bed with the thunder.

77 degrees in the fall feels cold, and 77 degrees in the spring feels hot. That’s why I’m selling year-round-nudity for half-price.

Right now it’s 77 degrees—even if you’re a dyslexic.

Drinks heavily loaded with ice are reasonably effective, but the best way to cool down is to cuddle with a recently deceased person.

The summer temperature outside was 45 degrees, so I turned 45 degrees and went right back inside. It was so cold outside because that’s where all her love for me was.

Outside, she thought that there ought to be a word for it: the air temperature that was perfectly neither hot nor cold. One degree lower, and she might have felt a faint misgiving about not...

Perhaps the truth is that heavy literature blooms in extremes of temperature.