Quotes About Nostrils

He had long nostril hairs, powerfully intimidating, like an unscheduled nightmare.

The doctor raised the gun and pointed it at what in his fear ought to have been flaring nostrils, foaming lips, and the red-rimmed eyes of a savage. Instead he saw the quiet, even serene, face of a man not to be fooled with.

But now it was spring again, and spring was almost unbearable for sensitive hearts. It drove creation to its utmost limits, it wafted its spice-laden breath even into the nostrils of the innocent.

The pother about the Visitation had no more relevance to the bishop's coming than the smell of hot women that was constantly in her nostrils had anything to do with the sun's journey overhead.

So many different forms of the beast in one place. As if you could just sprinkle some bog water on an ancient stone and some bizarre form of life might sprout there, uproot itself, and bound after a rabbit. Suddenly the luminous fog seemed alive with wet nostrils and eyes.

Because hypocrisy stinks in the nostrils one is likely to rate it as a more powerful agent for destruction than it is.

O master of my breath, create a man around these nostrils, and gather my heart toward the gravity of your name. Form me again with an utterance and open my mouth with your praise.

He never had smoke rising from his nostrils the way the dragons flying overhead did. He never sneezed out bursts of flame (although he did sneeze quite a lot for a while after his time in the river). He never even breathed heat, not even on the coldest nights when they both really needed it.

Description: thick, armored brown scales, sometimes with amber and gold underscales; large, flat heads with nostrils on top of the snout Abilities: can breathe fire (if warm enough), hold their breath for up to an hour, blend into large mud puddles; usually very strong Queen: Queen Moorhen

As the dragon charged it released huge clouds of hissing steam through its nostrils. It was almost as if a gigantic teapot had gone mad.

Now, here. The Warlord sent a likeness of himself." Sally frowned, but leaned in for a good long stare. "He looks like a dirty fingerprint." "Of course he doesn't," replied her father, squinting at the portrait. "You can see his eyes, right there." "I thought those were his nostrils." "Well, you're not going to be picky, are you? At least he has a face." "Yes," Sally replied dryly. "What a miracle.

Of course I had a handkerchief. It lay, clean as a whistle, in my pocket where it had been for a week. For I had the knack of extracting from my nostrils, with the nail of my forefinger, the snuffling substances that impeded my breathing, and the use of a handkerchief seemed to me a piece of parental superstition.

His nostrils and ears were large and full of hair. They looked as though furry little animals were hiding in them.

Her only flair is in her nostrils.

Smoke rose from His nostrils, and consuming fire came from His mouth; glowing coals blazed forth.

Smoke billows from his nostrils as from a boiling pot over burning reeds.