Quotes About Smoke

From this close, she could see the color of his eyes perfectly. They were a misty, shifting blue marbled with gray, like smoke rising through an early morning sky.

take wisdom." The genie waves his hand and vanishes in a puff of smoke. The smoke clears to reveal the dean with his head in his hands, lost in thought. A minute elapses. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Finally a professor calls out, "Well? Well?" The dean mutters, "I should have taken the money.

Love, smoke and a cough cannot long be hid!

Love and hate, black and white, Right or wrong, who is right? Some smoke joints to anoint their brain To the vanishing point...so they won't go insane.

Trip over love, you can get up. Fall in love and you fall forever. Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

A faith pure and simple distinguishes itself from superstition as a flame from the smoke and music from noise.

There was one kittypet . . . a young she-cat called Smoke. She had such soft, gray fur, and such brilliant blue eyes . . . It was like I was staring into pools of pure water!

Its tall chimneys throw up black smoke, impregnating everything with soot, and the miners' faces as they traveled the streets were also imbued with that ancient melancholy of smoke, unifying everything with its grayish monotones, a perfect coupling with the gray mountain days.

He knew the time for burning and plowing had ended the day before, but there still lingered in the warm March air something of the new season. The smell of freshly turned earth and the odor of pine and sedge-smoke hovered over the land even after burning and plowing was done. He breathed deeply of it, filling his body with the invigorating aroma.

I take pleasure in the little things. Double cheeseburgers, those are good, the sky ten minutes before it rains,the moment your laugh turns into a cackle. And I sit here, and smoke my Camel straights, and I ride my own melt.

I'm French, so I'm quite lazy about exercising, and I smoke. But I do love going for a run in the morning with my dog. That's all.

Well, where is she ? Where the colossal / Mountains of smoke stand. / That thing there amongst the fires / Is her.

I stared at the room full of caskets on display-their lids gaping open like hungry mouths, waiting to swallow up the newly departed. I decided I'd much rather exit this world in a crackle of flames and a swirl of smoke through my ribs than be cooped up for all eternity in a dark box surrounded by puffy white satin.

I stared at the room full of caskets on display—their lids gaping open like hungry mouths, waiting to swallow up the newly departed. I decided I'd much rather exit this world in a crackle of flames and a swirl of smoke through my ribs than be cooped up for all eternity in a dark box surrounded by puffy white satin.

so we could all burn in our beds with no warning?' 'Oh, you'd have plenty of warning, ma'am. The smoke detectors all work.

I remember that night as a scent, smoke first , then Montana sagebrush, that distant but forever threat of autumn in the air, and a passion caught in that scent, just a feeling that still wells up in me when I smell anything remotely like it, all of us purely alive and it up by the fire like fresh devils in the dark.

Two minutes later, we were ushered into Mr. Flannery's inner sanctum. The office smelled of cigar smoke and Lemon Pledge. Snap-together furniture, the kind you might find at Kmart or Bradlees, had been stained dark, feigning rich oak and mahogany and working about as well as a Las Vegas toupee.

ARTERIES HARDENED AND LUNGS blackened just by opening the door of the Weak Signal Bar and Grill. The seedy crowd brought plenty of colorful terminology to mind, but "health conscious" and "long life span" were not among them.

When there is an accident involving fire, in most cases death is caused by the inhalation of the toxic smoke. What we need is air to go to a driver for 45 seconds. I'm surprised that this is not done, and I would make it compulsory.

I never trust a fighting man who doesn't smoke or drink.

He lit his pipe, and the match head in that room of paper and leather flared up like an idea.

Ici nous sommes sur terre, Wilnor, et sur terre c'est le tourbillon et la fumée, ce ne sont pas les grandes allées droites du ciel.

It's all one thing — both tend into one scope - To live upon Tobacco and on Hope, The one's but smoke, the other is but wind.

Love, Cough, & a Smoke, can't well be hid.