Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Caustic. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Caustic Quotes And Sayings by 92 Authors including Frank Herbert,Roy Batty,Sue Perkins,Carlos Ruiz Zafon,Isaac D'israeli for you to enjoy and share.
Pale northern complexion that turned to burn at the drop of a sunbeam.
Fiery the angels fell; deep thunder rolled around their shores; burning with the fires of Orc.
Frightfully pale and perpetually odd
The gaslight radiating from this opening gave an ocher tone to the miasma that emanated from within.
Candour is the brightest gem of criticism.
river, small green flames, red flames, white flames, pursuing,
Vinegar of the interrogator with the oil of a flirt,
There's smoke in my iris, but I painted a sunny day on the insides of my eyelids
Brown, I say, deep brown. Like coffee without any milk.
That strong, grassy smell, raw milk in a tin cup.
Caviar is strange and disgusting. That popping texture, its like Space Dust for gourmets.
The sky, an inverted blue ceramic cauldron, poured out a hot dry brew.
It is nearly an insoluble pancake, a conundrum of inscrutable potentialities, a snorter.
smouldering away in a fit of impotent rage
Glowering like a dwarven god of vengeance.
like candy thunder. Oh,
The transformation which occurs in the cauldron is quintessential and wondrous, subtle and delicate. The mouth cannot express it in words.
Things that burn very brightly, we wonder how long they can keep burning.
Laughter is carbonated holiness.
The glass is three fifths full of gas.
A Waft of Cheese
Dark-bright fire lit eyes
A pale ring of sunlight burns into the clouds like the end of a lit cigarette.
A faint blush melting through the light of thy transparent cheek like a rose-leaf bathed in dew.
Foul and magical fumes bubbled out of the kettle, like the flatulence of a dragon on a demon-only diet.
Rorshach's journal. October 16, 1985. Been waiting in Moloch's fridge for three hours. Ate two raw eggs and packet of honey mustard sauce. Just realized I am sitting on baking soda. Freezing ass off. Really have to take leak.
For answer, Calcifer stretched out a blue arm-shaped flame divided into green fingerlike flames at the end. It was not very long, nor did it look strong. "See? I can almost reach the hearth," he said proudly.
Indignation. Best fuel I know. Never burns out.
glowed like diamonds in the sunlight,
A long, loud, and canorous peal of laughter.
misbegotten cockwaffle.
Some dry leaf blows into a campfire well-stoked and drawing well. What follows? That leaf catches at once, swiftly is consumed, a shadow withering briefly in the fierce light, and thereafter little remains, not cinder and ash so much as smudges of char.
Honey poured over thunder.
crystals that stung your
The smell of perfume left behind. There's not a word for that in English, but Colin knew the French word: sillage.
A flame burns brightest just before it goes out.
Lava bread makes you passionate.
When the taste changes with every bite and the last bite tastes as good as the first, that's Cajun.
The cherries on the ends of our cigarettes burned a bright orange against the surrounding shadows, like the stirring of embers, waiting for the phoenix to rise.
Boiling anger burns. Sticks to people like hot melted sugar. Scars and blisters.
Chocolate Melting
Intoxicating" - Shannon
looked like a toothless walnut.
A man in a cloud, with icicle teeth and eyes of fire.
The combination of popcorn, soda, and melted chocolate which covers the floors of movie theaters.
What is more gentle than a wind is summer?
Cinders. Embers. Ashes.
Some touch of Nature's genial glow.
Champagne has the taste of an apple peeled with a steel knife
The sun, an hour above the horizon, is poised like a bloody egg upon a crest of thunderheads; the light has turned copper: in the eye portentous, in the nose sulphurous, smelling of lightning.
His round cheeks are of a red that seems to glow from within, as if he had a lit candle in his mouth like a paper lantern at a summer fete.
A flame in the dark
The sight of burnt orange makes me puke.
A filament of sensation sizzled between them, like a thin string of kerosene that, for the love of a match, could turn into a wall of fire.
There is a sort of human paste that when it comes near the fire of enthusiasm is only baked into harder shape.
Mount Kilauea spilled glowing lava like cords of orange neon-lighting from seemingly nowhere. In the blackness that engulfed the night, electric heat lit flowing streams that fell into the sea, disappearing in a cloud of steam with a sizzling splash.
The mustard on the roof of my mouth gave me the feeling that someone was removing my nasal hair with a blowtorch.
Her perfume was a mixture of roses and tear gas.
It flamed like a star that leaping from the firmament sears the dark air with intolerable light.
He is a strange, resolute, repulsive, iron-willed, inexorable old man, [possessing] a firey nature and a cold temper, and a cooler head--a volcano beneath a covering of snow.
Her heart was made of liquid sunsets.
Convulsive anger storms at large; or pale
And silent, settles into full revenge.
Bursts of gold on lavender melting into saffron. It's the time of day when the sky looks like it has been spray-painted by a graffiti artist.
You behold a range of exhausted volcanoes. Not a flame flickers on a single pallid crest.
I called it ignose, not knowing which carbohydrate it was. This name was turned down by my editor. 'God-nose' was not more successful, so in the end 'hexuronic acid' was agreed upon. To-day the substance is called 'ascorbic acid' and I will use this name.
Time it sparked a little glow in Cinder's silicon heart.
Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.
Ravic emptied his glass. He got a package of cigarettes out of his pocket, took one out and lit it. His hands were not yet steady. He flung the match on the floor and ordered another calvados. That face, that smiling face which he thought he had just seen again - he must have been
A splendour of miscellaneous spirits.
He looked up to see if the sun had gone behind a cloud. It hadn't, but it almost seemed to him that there was a black corona forming around its brilliant circle, like a ring of mascara around a startled eye. Half
Its aura distorts hard edges. Shimmering vortices of discoloration boil off, swirling, licking the
cold night air with bright spectral fire. Violence and death, this one's still hot.
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.
The matches also came into focus: a cheap, bright label, in French. I picked up the box, slid it open, my nose stung by the smell of sulphur. Four matches. I took one, scraped it into life, held it to the oil lamp. A spot of warmth entered the room.
Fierce-looking, a coal-eyed brunette with a gaze direct as lasers. She
iconoclastically.
Her fire was roaring, her silhouette raising showers of orange sparks with a hammer made of shadow.
I want a brighter word than bright
behaving in an almost giddy fashion, some slathering on sunscreen in
your huge blocks of industrial ice packed in fragrant sawdust, the huge blocks of man-sized ice with flaws way inside like trapped white faces, white flames of internal cracks.
Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.
Mmm. O positive, my favorite."
"Is it? I thought it was a cabernet sauvignon."
"So it is," said Adrian, straight-faced. "My mistake.
Astonishingly slimy and dangerous
A smile like a small wisp of smoke drifting quietly skyward on a windless day.
Glass flowers exploding. Slow trail of colors down the sky like stains dispersing in the sea, candescent polyps extinguished in the depths.
The unpleasant, acrid smell of burnt poetry.
a total fucking gas
The faint light all about, quivering and sourceless, refracted in the rain of drifting soot.
A monstrous, grisly light poured in on them. - a hideous light - a boiling, pestilential light - a light that would have disfigured hell. The
He was fireworks and radiance, glare and tingling frostbite.
Gallagher opens his mouth, shuts it, tries again. "Could make some Molotovs?" he suggests. He nods toward the kitchen. "There's bottles of cooking oil in there." "I don't believe breaking bottles would make a particularly loud noise," Dr Caldwell says acerbically. "It
Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite, exquisite and melting her all molten inside.
Like odorless, colorless smoke leaking into the room through a small crack in the door.
Demagogue
a vessel containing beer and other liquids.
like an angry diamond,
T is the summer prime, when the noiseless air in perfumed chalice lies.
C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre (attributed to a French observer during the Charge of the Light
I am volatile for one, rigid for another, angular as an icicle in silver, or voluptuous as a candle flame in gold.
I am wrapped round with phrases, like damp straw; I glow, phosphorescent.
Smell of natural gas, piped from the big metal tank in the backyard, filled once a month by a truck.
When a lovely flame dies,
Smoke gets in your eyes.