Quotes About Crackle

How long he stood he did not know, but there was a foolish and yet delicious sense of knowing himself as an animal come from the forest, drawn by the fire. He was a thing of brush and liquid eye, of fur and muzzle and hoof, he was a thing of horn and blood that would smell like autumn if you bled it out on the ground. He stood a long time, listening to the warm crackle of the flames.

Rose took my nose, I suppose," he repeated; the bubble of phlegm in his throat made a disgusting crackle. "And it really blows.

Some sounds are so exquisite - far more exquisite than anything seen. Daff's purr there on my rug, for instance - and the snap and crackle of the fire - and the squeaks and scrambles of mice that are having a jamboree behind the wainscot.

Sweeties were a breakfast cereal. They did not snap,crackle or pop, or do anything the more talented cereals did.

The lightning danced along the sky and sizzled among the trees, reverberated with butt-clenching snaps and crackles, and strobed briefly through the limbs and leaves.

Snap! Crackle! and Pop!

Her eyes were like coffee beans, and, when she laughed, they really did seem to crackle like roasting beans.

The patterns of big-band music are smooth and classical. It's got to be fresh. The brass section should crackle, like the sound of eggs being dropped into hot grease.

The rhythms of American popular music are more or less brittle; they should be made to snap, and at times to crackle. The more sharply the music is played, the more effective it sounds.

The futures of Crackle and Hulu and so forth become more and more important as we connect to more and more devices. We need our content to make our services as attractive as Apple's or Amazon's or Microsoft's. We're in a brave new world of fierce competition.

Everything is ferns, leaf mold, the crackle of fire, and the hum of distant voices.

Sugar flake that, yo. Snap, crackle, pop.

the air had that midwinter crackle. You know that feeling, like the air might break? .

when the snow begins to fall once again, she catches a flake on her tongue and feels, lapping against her belly, the lake it was drawn from by summer sun, far away—a lake like a promise she will one day know. Then as the world folds down for winter, so too do the girl and her mother, listening to the crackle of flame and, beyond the leather door curtain, the soft hiss of snow settling over the hills and hollows like white felt.