Quotes About Smoke

Myth, the smoke of history, is seen to signal new and more relevant meanings when espied from the distance of later millennia.

The patchwork bard's cloak he swung around his shoulders smelled of smoke and sweet resin and strong whiskey, so every time he inhalted it was though the Devil's hand traced his spine.

The white hound who runs before them is gone, vanished, tattered and blown apart by the freshening breeze as if he had no more substance than a twist of smoke.

At Spezia when I am angry I go full of smoke inside, but when you make me angry I see everything.

Mr. Payton was at work on his pipe again, lighting and coaxing it. "They need constant attention, pipes, like babies and guinea hens," he said, and sucked in the smoke.

respond to that except by admitting it? 'Yes. My eyes are always stinging from the smoke of it.

In bed our yesterdays are too oppressive: if a man can only get up, though it be but to whistle or to smoke, he has a present which offers some resistance to the past—sensations which assert themselves against tyrannous memories.

Gossip is a sort of smoke that comes from the dirty tobacco-pipes of those who diffuse it; it proves nothing but the bad taste of the smoker," But the truth is, gossip hurts.

Wood pellet grilling could potentially have a lower risk of cancer when compared to other forms of grilling, as some people say that it leads to the creation of fewer carcinogens.

Pimenton gets its intense flavor because it is dried over wood smoke. You can try hot, sweet or bittersweet, though sweet is probably the most commonly used.

The miracle of order has run out and I am left in an unmiraculous city where anything may happen. I don't need more intimations of disorder. It has to be more than that! Search the smoke for the fire's base. Read from the coals neither success nor despair. This edge of boredom is as bright. I pass it, into the dark rim. There is the deceiving warmth that asks nothing. There are objects lost in double-light.

This God-damn city. If you wanna stay drunk, it sure is the place to come. You can buy drinks at the God-damn bars and you don't have to pay no money. Or anything. And anyplace you go, people always got stuff to smoke or to drink. Jesus." He burped. "I gotta go water the garden. Be back in a minute." He stepped away and headed for the john.

I did a research assignment on life in the Middle Ages only last year. I found the era fascinating, all that chivalry and court romance. But I never pictured anything as poor as this village. This is the pits. There's no romance here, definitely no chivary. And it stinks--of sweat and smoke and sewage.

The sun was brightly mild. There was the crisp sound of maple leaves just ripe enough to fall, and leather oak leaves that would cling until a wind took them, and the smell from the fields of all the life that had burned through all those crops until it spent itself down like a fire. It was almost the smell of smoke.

Las ideas eran esenciales, pero, si no las acompañaba una acción resuelta de las víctimas —las mujeres y los obreros—, las bellas palabras se harían humo y nunca saldrían de los mentideros parisinos.

Places remained and time flowed through them like wind through the grass. Right now. This was the future turning into the past. One thing becoming another. Like a flame on the end of a match. Wood turning into smoke. If only we could burn brighter. A barn roaring in the night.

But the smoke goes out of the chimney and into the air and sometimes I look up into the sky and I think that there are molecules of Mother up there, or in clouds over Africa or the Antarctic, or coming down as rain in the rain forests in Brazil, or in snow somewhere.

The cigar has been smoked out, and we are the ashes.

So you can put that in your pipe and smoke it Mr. Busybody Holmes.

Autumn settled itself down over the land like a colorful skirt. Dusk came earlier and touched the leaves with sharp breath. The hills were filled with the smoke from smoldering patches of forest fires.

He would talk and talk and talk; the twilight would fill with cigarette smoke and shimmering words would tremble in the blue coils of air...

You can never get the smell of smoke out. Like the smell of failure in life.

The wood smoke gave the whole place the scent of autumn

It is not in mere sport that Paris has been called a hell. Take the phrase for truth. There all is smoke and fire, everything gleams, crackles, flames, evaporates, dies out, then lights up again, with shooting sparks, and is consumed.