Smoke Quotes - Page 38

• That evening I rode downtown on an unaccountably empty bus, sitting in the last row. At the front I saw a thin cloud of smoke rising around the driver’s head. ‘Hey, bus driver,’ I said. ‘Can I smoke?’ ‘May I,’ said the bus driver. ‘I love you,’ I said.

  Michael Chabon

  Love You, Clouds, Sitting

  Michael Chabon (2011). “The Mysteries of Pittsburgh”, p.105, Open Road Media

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• The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.

  Arundhati Roy

  Romantic Love, Romance, Body

  Arundhati Roy (2002). “The God of Small Things”, p.335, Penguin Books India

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• EA: Is it the smoke that smells like vanilla? Audience: Yeah. EA: Yeah, they do that to mask the chemicals that are actually killing you.

  Emilie Autumn

  Smell, Vanilla, Killing

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• The trouble with aggressive nonsmokers is that they feel they are doing you a favor by not allowing you to smoke. They seem to think that one day you'll look back and thank them for those precious fifteen seconds they just added to your life. What they don't understand is that those are just fifteen more seconds you can spend hating their guts and plotting revenge.

  David Sedaris

  Revenge, Hate, Thinking

  David Sedaris (2010). “Barrel Fever”, p.127, Hachette UK

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• You smoke? (Randy) Only when I’m on fire. (Steele) I don’t appreciate your humor, Mr. Steele. (Randy) I’m an acquired taste. (Steele)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Fire, Appreciate, Taste

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• My heart is drumming in my chest so hard it aches, but it's the good kind of ache, like the feeling you get on the first real day of autumn, when the air is crisp and the leaves are all flaring at the edges and the wind smells just vaguely of smoke - like the end and the beginning of something all at once.

  Lauren Oliver

  Real, Heart, Autumn

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• Poetry began in the matriarchal age, and derives its magic from the moon, not from the sun. No poet can hope to understand the nature of poetry unless he has had a vision of the Naked King crucified to the lopped oak, and watched the dancers, red-eyed from the acrid smoke of the sacrificial fires, stamping out the measure of the dance, their bodies bent uncouthly forward, with a monotonous chant of "Kill! kill! kill!" and "Blood! blood! blood!

  Robert Graves

  Kings, Moon, Fire

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• Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

  William Shakespeare

  Hate, Unrequited Love, Sleep

  William Shakespeare (2008). “Romeo and Juliet”, p.40, Barron's Educational Series

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• Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. *Here’s what love is: a smoke made out of lovers' sighs. When the smoke clears, love is a fire burning in your lover’s eyes. If you frustrate love, you get an ocean made out of lovers' tears. What else is love? It’s a wise form of madness. It’s a sweet lozenge that you choke on.*

  William Shakespeare

  Wise, Sweet, Ocean

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• It's late, I'm tired, and your cigarettes are giving me a headache," I growled. "I suppose that's fair." He drew in on the cigarette and let out the smoke. "Some women think they make me look sexy." "I think you smoke them so you have something to do while thinking up your next witty line." He choked on the smoke, caught between inhaling and laughing. "Rose Hathaway, I can't wait to see you again. If you're this charming while tired and annoyed and this gorgeous while bruised and in ski clothes, you must be devastating at your peak.

  Richelle Mead

  Sexy, Witty, Tired

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• The flash would prove that proton decay really happens. The flash would mean that the matter of the proton - the solid stuff - had turned into the energy of the flash (E-mc2). Totally. Nothing left behind. No ash. No smoke. No smell. Nada. One moment it's there, the next moment - pffft - gone. What would it mean? Only this: Nothing lasts. Nothing. Because everything that exists is made of protons.

  Jerry Spinelli

  Mean, Smell, Energy

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• Everything that's born has to die, which means our lives are like skyscrapers. The smoke rises at different speeds, but they're all on fire, and we're all trapped.

  Jonathan Safran Foer

  Mean, Fire, Different

  Jonathan Safran Foer (2013). “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: A Novel”, p.245, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow Loosely as cannon-smoke... Is a reminder of the strength and pain Of being young; that it can't come again, But is for others undiminished somewhere.

  Philip Larkin

  Pain, Blow, Moon

  Philip Larkin (2014). “Collected Poems”, p.129, Faber & Faber

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• I believe in work. If somebody doesn't create something, however small it may be, he gets sick. An awful lot of people feel that they're treading water -- that if they vanished in smoke, it wouldn't mean anything at all in this world. And that's a despairing and destructive feeling. It'll kill you.

  Arthur Miller

  Work, Believe, Mean

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• What does she (J. K. Rowling) hope people will take with them about this time? “When all the fuss and hoopla dies away, and when all the press commentary dies away, I think it will be seen that this phenomenon was generated, in the first instance, by kids loving a book. A book went on shelves, and a few people loved it. When all of the smoke and lights die away, that’s what you’ll be left with. “And that’s the most wonderful thought for an author.

  Melissa Anelli

  Book, Kids, Thinking

  Melissa Anelli (2011). “Harry, A History - Enhanced with Videos and Exclusive J.K. Rowling Interview: The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life”, p.313, Simon and Schuster

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• To-day I think Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield, And bracken, and wild carrot's seed, And the square mustard field; Odours that rise When the spade wounds the root of tree, Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed, Rhubarb or celery; The smoke's smell, too, Flowing from where a bonfire burns The dead, the waste, the dangerous, And all to sweetness turns. It is enough To smell, to crumble the dark earth, While the robin sings over again Sad songs of Autumn mirth." - A poem called DIGGING.

  Edward Thomas

  Song, Autumn, Dark

  Edward Thomas (2011). “Selected Poems of Edward Thomas”, p.85, Faber & Faber

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• 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.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Writing, Men, Self

  VLADIMIR NABOKOV' (1965). “THE EYE”

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• It's safe to assume that by 2085 guns will be sold in vending machines but you won't be able to smoke anywhere in America.

  David Sedaris

  Gun, America, Machines

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• oh god it’s wonderful to get out of bed and drink too much coffee and smoke too many cigarettes and love you so much

  Frank O'Hara

  Coffee, Love You, Bed

  Frank O'Hara (1995). “The Collected Poems of Frank O'Hara”, p.371, Univ of California Press

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• Peace cannot be built on exclusivism, absolutism, and intolerance. But neither can it be built on vague liberal slogans and pious programs gestated in the smoke of confabulation. There can be no peace on earth without the kind of inner change that brings man back to his "right mind." p. 31

  Thomas Merton

  Wisdom, Peace, Men

  Mahatma Gandhi, Thomas Merton (2007). “Gandhi on Non-Violence”, p.31, New Directions Publishing

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• We weren't allowing our hopes to become expectations. Expectations are tempting, pleasant, maybe necessary. They are scary too, once you have had some experience. They are not necessarily and not always a bucket of smoke, but they can be and are even likely to be.

  Wendell Berry

  Expectations, Scary, Buckets

  Wendell Berry (2005). “Hannah Coulter: A Novel”, p.139, Counterpoint Press

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• Now, helpless in the hollow of An unarmorial age, a trough Of smoke in slow suspended skeins Above their scrap of history, Only an attitude remains: Time has transfigured them into Untruth. The stone finality They hardly meant has come to be Their final blazon, and to prove Our almost-instinct almost true: What will survive of us is love.

  Philip Larkin

  Attitude, Age, Finals

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• Squatting on old bones and excrement and rusty iron, in a white blaze of heat, a panorama of naked idiots stretches to the horizon. Complete silence - their speech centres are destroyed - except for the crackle of sparks and the popping of singed flesh as they apply electrodes up and down the spine. White smoke of burning flesh hangs in the motionless air. A group of children have tied an idiot to a post with barbed wire and built a fire between his legs and stand watching with bestial curiosity as the flames lick his thighs. His flesh jerks in the fire with insect agony.

  William S. Burroughs

  Children, Air, Flames

  "Naked Lunch". Book by William S. Burroughs, 1959.

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• There is no articulate resonance. The common problem, I suppose, is to have more to say than vocabulary and syntax can bear. That is why I am hunting in these desiccated streets. The smoke hides the sky's variety, stains consciousness, covers the holocaust with something safe and insubstantial. It protects from greater flame. It indicates fire, but obscures the source. This is not a useful city. Very little here approaches any eidolon of the beautiful.

  Samuel R. Delany

  Beautiful, Hunting, Fire

  "Dhalgren". Book by Samuel R. Delany, January, 1975.

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• It wasn't sarcasm." Graves blew out a cloud of acrid smoke. "It was pointing out a fallacy in your logic, babe." Anna's jaw actually dropped. For a moment, I wasn't sure if I should laugh or push him out of the room. Way to go, Graves.

  Lilith Saintcrow

  Sarcasm, Clouds, Laughing

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