Quotes About Smoke

Someone—or ones—was in the house; my gut told me they were my faithless husband and his illicit lover. A ribbon of smoke curled from the chimney. My plan was going to work!

the debris nor the smoke which blocked the tunnel

A custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black, stinking fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.

There can no great smoke arise, but there must be some fire.

I felt his voice. Fingers rubbing moss. Smoke curling. Wood worn and smoothed over time. His voice had darkness in it that hovered close to the ground, like a mist hanging over a lake deep in a forest at dusk. A bolt of sea-green velvet. A sensation as much as a series of sounds. It reverberated inside me.

But gods are born of ichor and nectar, their excellences already bursting from their fingertips. So they find their fame by proving what they can mar: destroying cities, starting wars, breeding plagues and monsters. All that smoke and savor rising so delicately from our altars. It leaves only ash behind.

It was their fate, as Prometheus had told me, the story that they all shared. No matter how vivid they were in life, no matter how brilliant, no matter the wonders they made, they came to dust and smoke.

The only thing they share is death. You know the word?"..."Their bodies crumble and pass into earth. Their souls turn to cold smoke and fly to the underworld. There they eat nothing and drink nothing and feel no warmth. Everything they reach for slips from their grasp." "How do they bear it?" "As best they can.

Le soleil, ruisselant dans le bureau sous les stores baissés, taille dans la fumée des cigares une coupe oblique semblable à de la soie mouillée.

Smoke! Did all human passion burn away and drift in a blue film over the fields, obscure for a moment the sight of the sun and the shapes of the crops and the trees, then fade into air and leave the clear hard day; and no difference anywhere? Not quite! For smoke was burnt tissue, and where fire had raged there was alteration.

Joel 2:30–31:   I will show wonders in the heavens and in the earth: Blood and fire and pillars of smoke. The sun shall be turned into darkness, And the moon into blood, Before the coming of the great and awesome day of the LORD.

In a flat choice between smoke and jobs, we're for jobs... But just keep me out of trouble on environmental issues.

The house was larger than it looked from the outside, and elegant, and smelled lightly of cigar smoke. A side hallway led toward what must've been two or three bedrooms. A library featured pop fiction and a big octagonal poker table with a green baize surface; the living room was cluttered with couches and chairs and small tables. An oversized television hung from one wall.

Like Trush, Sheriff Gorunov is a born Alpha, a handsome, fire-breathing dragon of a man who smokes with an alarming vigor: cigarette clamped between his canines at the point where filter and tobacco meet, the act of inhaling fully integrated into breath and speech such that there is no discernible pause, only billowing smoke that seems to be a natural by-product of a voice that booms even in the confines of his quiet kitchen.

and then he sees the eyes sort of find a voice and what he hears is like a howl, first a howling from one eye and then a scattered howling from lots of eyes and then the huge howl becomes one with the flames rising up and it disappears into the darkness and the voices in the eyes rise up and are smoke that you can't see and he keeps walking and now it's so cold that he has to go home ...

Deathbed repentance is burning the candle of life in the service of the devil, and then blowing the smoke into the face of God.

a bee drugged with tobacco smoke that had ceased to take any thought for preserving the accumulation of its labours and the hopes of its hive.

He tried to grasp the thought, but it was like throwing his arms around smoke.

Heart cannot think what outrage and what cries, with black smoke and flashing fire, the beast threw forth, turning the whole world to darkness.

Then another dirge rose, woven uninvited by a Geatish woman, louder than the rest. She tore her hair and screamed her horror at the hell that was to come: more of the same. Reaping raping, feasts of blood, iron fortunes marching across her country claiming her body. The sky sipped the smoke and smiled.

You get one wish , the smoke said. And so Yoth wished.

To me, Toronto is a good party city, I think Vancouver has the best smoke, you know. And then, Montreal has the best..uh..Chinese food?

Asthma doesn't seem to bother me any more unless I'm around cigars or dogs. The thing that would bother me most would be a dog smoking a cigar.

A cigar has "...a fire at one end and a fool at the other."