Quotes About Smoke

Smoke By Théophile Gautier Translated by Norman R. Shapiro Over there, trees are sheltering A hunchedback hut... A slum, no more... Roof askew, walls and wainscoting Falling away... Moss hides the door. Only one shutter, hanging... But Seeping over the windowsill, Like frosted breath, proof that this hut, This slum, is living, breathing still. Corkscrew of smoke... A wisp of blue Escapes the hovel, whose soul it is... Rises to God himself, and who Receives the news and makes it his.

Fumum Vendidi

Deseaba respirar humo.

Where there's smoke, there's usually fire," Solo says before adding quietly, "Usually an electrical fire near the hyperspace drive, which Chewie always warns me about…

Soon the smoke will drift over the river, and with it, the shepherds' first exposure to that smell: a smell like sick pork cooked slow, a smell that some would describe as having a taste, too, one that lingered in the back of the nose, at the base of the tongue, a taste not unlike licking a very old library book.

Sam and Remi dressed quickly and headed up on deck. When they climbed the steps to the bridge, they could see why Juan had wanted to wake them. Through the windshield they could see the distant shape of Tacaná, the second highest peak in Mexico. It was a dark blue pyramid miles back from the coast, standing alone against the sky. This morning, it was emitting a line of gray smoke that trailed off to the east

She takes another long haul, lets the smoke settle in her lungs-- she has heard somewhere that cigarettes are good for grief. One long drag and you forget how to cry. The body too busy dealing with the poison.

Mind you, sometimes the angels smoke, hiding it with their sleeves, and when the archangel comes, they throw the cigarettes away: that's when you get shooting stars.

a man who has decided upon self-destruction is far removed from mundane affairs, and to sit down and write his will would be, at that moment, an act just as absurd as winding up one's watch, since together with the man, the whole world is destroyed; the last letter is instantly reduced to dust and, with it, all the postmen; and like smoke, vanishes the estate bequeathed to a nonexistent progeny.

Sometimes, though, angels smoke-in their sleeves. But when the archangel goes by, they throw their cigarettes away: This is what falling stars are.

Well, the first reaction was, What smoke? When I looked and saw it, and we all ran to the back where we were far away from the flames-cowards as we are, you know-all sat around the emergency door and even tested the emergency door, ready to jump out. Of course, I said, Beatles and children first.

One sailor telling another that his beard smelled of smoke was tantamount to provoking a fight.

Every bedroom was empty except for the smell of gasoline and a small crackling fire set directly in the middle of each bed, as if a demented Girl Scout had been camping there. By the time she checked the living room, the family room, the rec room, and the kitchen, the smoke had begun to spread, and she ran outside at last to hear the sirens, alerted by their home security system, already approaching.

Jimmy liked to control his environment. He didn't drink, so no one took a drink in his presence. He didn't smoke, so nobody lit up around him. Sometimes he'd get all riled up. He'd get impatient and he'd do things that would remind you of a kid scratching chicken pox. You couldn't tell him he was going to end up with pockmarks. You couldn't say a word. You just listened. Jimmy

The sky was dark and gloomy, the air was damp and raw, the streets were wet and sloppy. The smoke hung sluggishly above the chimney-tops as if it lacked the courage to rise, and the rain came slowly and doggedly down, as if it had not even the spirit to pour.

I saw light wreaths from Joe's pipe floating there, and I fancied it was like a blessing from Joe,—not obtruded on me or paraded before me, but pervading the air we shared together.

There was not one straight floor from the foundation to the roof; the ceilings were so fantastically clouded by smoke and dust, that old woman might have told fortunes in them better than in grouts of tea;

There was not one straight floor from the foundation to the roof; the ceilings were so fantastically clouded by smoke and dust, that old women might have told fortunes in them better than in grouts of tea;

For smoke, which is the London ivy, had so wreathed itself round Peffer's name and clung to his dwelling-place that the affectionate parasite quite overpowered the parent tree.

it had been quite a fine house once, when it was anybody's business to keep it clean and fresh, and nobody's business to smoke in it all day

He was very obliging, and as he handed me into a fly after superintending the removal of my boxes, I asked him whether there was a great fire anywhere? For the streets were so full of dense brown smoke that scarcely anything was to be seen. "Oh, dear no, miss," he said. "This is a London particular." I had never heard of such a thing.

Occasionally, the smoke came rolling down the chimney as though it could not bear to go out into such a night;

Poets smoke nature and beauty and angst and exhale swirling plumes of poetry.

Evenings chilly are, and damp, Early lighted is the lamp; Fire burns, and kettle sings, Smoke ascends in thin blue rings; On the rug the children lie; In the west the soft lights die; From the elms a robin's song Rings out sweetly, lingers long,— In September.