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Smoke Quotes

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Smoke Quotes

“They're brainless girls, otherwise they wouldn't be seen dead here. They're pretty, with ugly, appealing smiles and conversations we can't hear. They breathe smoke and blow it out, and words drop from their mouths and get crushed to the floor. Or they get discarded, just to glow with warmth for a moment, for someone else to tread on later.”

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Book:Fighting Ruben Wolfe
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“Ionizing smoke detectors unnaturally raise the background radiation levels in the human environment.”

HumansHumanityLevelsEnvironmentHumanRaisesRaisedEnvironmentalSmokeHuman ConditionRadiationHumanity And SocietyUnnaturalEnvironmentalismHuman DevelopmentEnvironmental ProtectionHuman BeingDetectionLevelEnvironmental ConservationEnvironmental DegradationRadiation EffectsBackgroundRaiseEnvironmental ValuesRadiationsDetectorDetectIonizingUnnaturallyIonIonizeLevel Of Acceptance
Book:Electrical Forensics
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“Smoke and mirrors’ is a useful metaphor for the ways in which organised abuse has chided conceptualisation and understanding. The chapter provides an overview of cite often incendiary debates over organised abuse before going on to suggest that critical theories on gender, crime and intersubjectivity may offer new insights into the phenomenon.”

MetaphorSmokeMirrorHiddenOrganised AbusePedophile RingsRitualised AbuseChilsd Abuse
Book:Organised Sexual Abuse
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“What is this thing you call substance abuse? All I wanna do is forget and get loose. Drinking and smoking over and over What's so great about a life that's sober? There's nothing cool about being young When the monsters of night have stolen the sun. I'm tired of searching for words in the sky. All I wanna do is drink and die. Nothing is real. It's all a big lie. All I wanna do is drink and die. There's nothing cool about being young When the monsters of night have stolen the sun.”

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Book:Last Night I Sang to the Monster
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“The Doktor was very vond, I mean fond of Vluffy, so he gave him a flame-proof doggie-jacket. It was dull grey, but it had a tartan pattern on it. Vluffy liked his doggie-jacket and wore it all the time. When things went ‘bang’ he could just roll over, dust himself off and quickly scamper off with the doggie jacket flapping on his back. So in short, Vluffy was a very happy little dog who spent a lot of his time hiding under furniture. But the point is that he’d had a lot of time. Much more than those who went (up in smoke) before him.”

TimeHappySmokeHidingGreyFurnitureTheItALittleAndOfShortWhenHimWhoBackOverHisThoseUnderHadOffRollTartanHe DDoggie JacketFlame ProofOf TimeScamperVluffyVond
Book:Innocent Minds
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“Smokers always waxed poetic about the ritual of it, how a large part of the satisfaction was packing the box and pulling the foil wrapper and plucking an aromatic stick. They claimed they loved the lighting, the ashing, the feeling of being able to hold something between their fingers. That was all well and good, but there was nothing quite like actually smoking it: Leigh loved inhaling. To pull with your lips on that filter and feel the smoke drift across your tongue, down your throat, and directly into your lungs was to be transported momentarily to nirvana. She remembered- every day- how it felt after the first inhale, just as the nicotine was hitting her bloodstream. A few seconds of both tranquility and alertness, together, in exactly the right amounts. Then the slow exhale- forceful enough so that the smoke didn't merely seep from your mouth but not so energetic that it disrupted the moment- would complete the blissful experience.”

HappinessSatisfactionSmokeSmokingPoeticCigaretteNirvanaAlertnessBlissfulSmoker
Book:Chasing Harry Winston
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“A group of tiny warriors no more than 2" high, their dark skins making them almost impossible to see, were silently surrounding an unsuspecting rodent. The kill was quick, the prey lifted in half a dozen miniature arms, & to Claire's surprise, thrown against the 3rd rail. There was a sudden flash, a wisp of smoke, & tiny voices chanting: "Bar. Be. Que! Bar! Be! Que!”

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Book:The Second Summoning
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“The grille of the Caddie plunged right into the middle of the bonfire, scattering smoke and flames and bones to the wind. The Cadillac finally bounced and jolted to a stop among a rain of burning human skulls. The voice of John Fogerty garbled and died. The driver's door opened and John flung himself out, clutching a sawed-off shotgun. He screamed, 'DID SOMEBODY ORDER SOME FUCKING PRISON BREAK WITH A SIDE OF SHOTGUN?”

BonesSmokeFlamesSkullsBonfireJohnPrison BreakShotgunEntranceCaddieCadillacBurning Human SkullsCreedence Clearwater RevivalHow To Make An EntranceHuman SkullsJohn FogertyMaking An EntranceSawed Off ShotgunSide Of Shotgun
Book:This Book Is Full of Spiders
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“The Hope factory was menacing in the distance, for it was one of the few buildings that somehow managed to present itself through the smog. Its hulking form consumed almost all of the horizon, and its many pistons, pillars, chimneys and flumes ate into the heavens. For the parts of the sky it could not reach, those towers sent up endless streams of smoke, and this smoke devoured the natural clouds and left an unnatural haze in the heavens. The factory was a greedy mass of brick, a ravenous form of iron. As much as it gobbled up all the landscape, it threatened that it might eat the onlookers too.”

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Book:Hopebreaker
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“Sometimes the smoke from the factories and riverboats and trains would obscure the night sky entirely. But the town's industrial breath was blowing somewhere else tonight, and so the Armstrong house was bathed in starlight. Nell studied the little white specks, like glittering dust on black velvet, and she asked, "You boys ever wonder what it'd be like to be somewhere else?”

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Book:Hardtack: A Civil War Story
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“I smoke. It's expensive. It's also the best option. You see, I am always, always exhausted. It's a stimulant. When I am too tired to walk one more step, I can smoke and go for another hour. When I am enraged and beaten down and incapable of accomplishing one more thing, I can smoke and feel a little better, just for a minute. It is the only relaxation I am allowed.”

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Book:Natural Causes: An Epidemic of Wellness, the Certainty of Dying, and Killing Ourselves to Live Longer
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“He unzipped the nylon case, and inside was a discolored frame that smelled like smoke. A thin layer of soot covered the painting under the glass- a picture of an old manor house. Gothic Victorian. Wisteria climbed the wall near the entrance, the pale-lavender blossoms clinging to the gray stone. The artist had brushed flowers below the windows as well, though those colors had been muted by the smoke damage.”

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Book:Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor
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“The truth can have a funny way of revealing itself. One would like to think, in all its undeniable power, it would always be obvious. Either golden, a glorious beam that parts the clouds and lights the way, or totally hideous, a nasty pit that opens up in the earth, completely dark save the theroid eyes and teeth of those terrible monsters that reside there. But it can be sneakier than these. It can be pernicious. It can creep in like smoke, slowly but unwavering, until all that’s left is that blackness that one would expect in the pit, but instead of the monsters, it’s the thing itself that begins to kill you, only from the inside out.”

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Book:In Limbo
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