Quotes About Smoke

Safe…It was true that the chilly grey summer day, the hissing of steam, the shouting and bustle of a busy London railway terminal, and the constantly belching smoke, did constitute a menacing atmosphere to such new arrivals from another world.

For any unfamiliar with the concept of nuclear winter, basically this is when so much smoke and soot are released into the atmosphere as a result of multiple nuclear blasts, that the sun is blotted out for extended periods of time, leading to catastrophic cooling.

Vai assim, vem outro café, se pita um bom cigarro.

Everything comes out of smoke and mist and nothingness, a mystical happening…

True love's memory, You are heavy! In your smoke I sing and burn, And the rest -- is only fire To keep the chilled soul warm. To keep warm the sated body, They need my tears for this Did I for this sing your song, God? Did I take part of love for this? Let me drink of such a poison, That I would be deaf and dumb, And my unglorious glory Wash away to the final crumb.

This way I prayed: "Slake the dumb thirst Of singing with a sweet libation!" But to the earthling of the earth There can be no liberation. Like smoke from sacrifice, that it could not Fly Strength- and Glory-ward -- alas - But only clouded at the feet And, as if praying, kissed the grass. Thus I, O Lord, before thee bow: Will reach the fire of the sky My lashes that are closed for now And muteness utter and divine?

She says that in January 1990 when the Berliners saw the smoke coming out of the chimneys they came here to protest. They brought bricks and rocks and built a symbolic wall around the building, to get the Stasi to stop burning the files. She says it is extraordinary that, with all those stones, not one was thrown and that, conversely, not one shot was fired from this building.

Beautiful in the frost and mist-covered hills above the Dnieper, the life of the City hummed and steamed like a many-layered honeycomb. All day long smoke spiralled in ribbons up to the sky from innumerable chimney-pots. A haze floated over the streets, the packed snow creaked underfoot, houses towered to five, six and even seven storeys. By day their windows were black, while at night they shone in rows against the deep, dark blue sky . . .

like a girl gone mad, in blood, in smoke, in a wedding of murder

when joy betrays you I do not count your life alive a corpse is more alive be as rich as you like be absolute if your joy goes I wouldn't buy you for a shadow of smoke

I meant to write a song of battle, for storied deeds of war inspire; I seemed to hear the cannon thunder, I seemed to see the smoke and fire. But oh, the pathos of the ending when brave men conquered in the fight, knelt, kissing yielded blood-stained colors!--my eyes are blurred, I cannot write.

voice)...it was honey, smoke, crystal, fire, wind, water, earth.

Fear? Back then, I didn't even realize what that new feeling was. Later, when it overwhelmed me and almost pulled me under, I understood. And, since then, a nameless fear has hung like a plume of smoke over the great, colourful desert of this country, above my sometimes blissful, sometimes terrible memories of it.

That day was the beginning of my friendship with Sebastian, and thus it came about, that morning in June, that I was lying beside him in the shade of the high elms watching the smoke from his lips drift up into the branches.

Had a hell of a dream about you last night," came in the cracked voice through the cigar smoke.

I love barbecue, it's my favorite thing to eat.

I like the idea that we build up these walls or rules or laws to maintain our reality, and when they fall away, you're left with a whole bunch of illusions. Smoke and mirrors.

There's nothing that can replicate the smoky flavor of char, so when I've got the hankering for it, I tell my wife that I'm taking care of dinner. I have three different types of barbecues - a coal, gas and smoker - so I can experiment a lot.

I'm not a malicious person. When you get past the tattoos and leather, I give people a fair shake. There are periods when I've sowed some wild oats, no doubt about it. And I can party with some of the heavyweights. There are some stories about me that, yeah, where there's smoke there's fire. But sometimes the smoke is just smoke.

To those who don't want the truth about Kennedy's assassination to become known, the very repetition of a charge lends it a certain credibility, since people have a tendency to believe that where there's smoke, there's fire.

My technicolour dreamcoat is the only thing I've stolen. It would be a terrible shame if it went up in smoke after the trouble I went to get it. I was wearing it during the most terrifying moment of my life - the opening night of 'Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat' was fear beyond compare.

It filled my head, that muttering sound, like thick oily smoke from a fat-rendering vat or an odour of noisome decay. And as I lay and tossed about, the voice in my ears seemed more distinct, and I began to understand the words he had muttered. They came to me slowly as if I had forgotten them, and at last I could make some sense out of the sounds. It was this: "Have you found the Yellow Sign?" "Have you found the Yellow Sign?" "Have you found the Yellow Sign?

cigars and whiskey, the same blend of scents that

his lips as the pathetic creature tied to the tree watched in horror. "Oh, yes, they definitely want Ryan Carlyle dead tonight," he said, flicking his lighter to the end of his Marlboro and cupping his hand around the tip. The thin paper and tobacco ignited in a flare. He drew in deeply, tasting the smoke, feeling it curl as it filled his lungs.