Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Smoky. 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 Smoky Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Emeril Lagasse,Dean Koontz,George Foreman,Richard K. Morgan,Denis Leary for you to enjoy and share.
When I want to kick it up, I like to add hardwood chips or chunks to the grill; it adds bold smoky flavors. The most common woods are hickory and mesquite, but you can find alder, apple, cherry and, my personal favorite, pecan.
He had the raw, rough voice of one who had marinated his larynx in whiskey and slow-cooked it in years of cigarette smoke.
Generally when there's a lot of smoke ... there's just a whole lot more smoke.
You smoke?"
"Smoke? Do I look like a fucking idiot?
I love to smoke. I love to eat red meat. I'll only eat red meat that comes from cows who smoke, ok!? Special cows they grow in Virginia with voice boxes in their necks. "Moo"
Where there's fire, there's smoke.
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.
the absurdity of a smoking skyscraper.
The only thing I smoke is my competition
You smell like burning horse hair.
A cigar has " ... a fire at one end and a fool at the other."
You remind me of a smoked cigarette.
Sweet-briar and southern-wood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is - I know it well - it is Mr. Rochester's cigar.
Fire is next akin to smoke.
Dusty, dark, cold, and hard, coal has no beauty of its own, but when it is consummated by fire it is beautiful and becomes what it was designed to be.
In the draws the smoke coming off the ground like mist and the thin black trees burning on the slopes like heathen candles.
Wherever there is smoke there is a good smoke machine.
A smile like a small wisp of smoke drifting quietly skyward on a windless day.
She smelled the smoke before she saw it - acrid in her nose, bitter in her throat.
You smell like the woods.
I am a cigarette with a body attached to it
I've been smokin' ever since I was two.
she opened the lid and was hit with a musty smell she could immediately put a name to: camp. It was an unforgettable combination of mildew, wood smoke and outdoors, an essence that resisted laundering and airing out.
A man of no conversation should smoke.
There is nothing more agreeable than having a place where one can throw on the floor as many cigar butts as one pleases without the subconscious fear of a maid who is waiting like a sentinel to place an ashtray where the ashes are going to fall.
Ought they to smoke like that?
And on that thin-mooned night, I could see little more than her silhoutte except for when she smoked, the burning cherry of the cigarette washing her face in pale red light.
One moment you're fire; the next smoke.
Kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray.
A club there is of smokers
dare you come
To that close, clouded, hot, narcotic room?
When, midnight past, the very candles seem
Dying for air, and give a ghastly gleam;
When curling fumes in lazy wreaths arise,
And prosing topers rub their winking eyes.
I smoke wherever there's an ashtray.
Six pull-tabs lay in the ashtray like scales from a mermaid.
I smoke to fill the potholes in my soul
The dust of my dreams swim spiced incense smoke.
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.
Smoke twisting amongst the lights and turning the air a desolate blue, the colour of dead hopes and lost chances.
There are no ugly cigars, only ugly smokers.
The echoes of beauty you've seen transpire, Resound through dying coals of a campfire.
A wilderness of gilt, gleaming in the slant from the dust-furred windows: gilded cupids, gilded commodes and torchieres, and
undercutting the old-wood smell
the reek of turpentine, oil paint, and varnish.
There's smoke in my iris, but I painted a sunny day on the insides of my eyelids
What business have I with this pipe? This thing that is meant for sereneness, to send up mild white vapors among mild white hairs, not among torn iron-grey locks like mine. I'll smoke no more.
I always liked the smell of a smoke-filled room. I think it's a good smell.
Than smoke and mist who better could appraise
The kindred spirit of an inner haze?
Hazel wears a beret, is 1940s skinny, speaks in a full whisper, drinks whiskey, smokes impressively, and holds the eye.
Aficionado my ass ... I just love to smoke cigars
Mommy smoked but she didn't want us to. She saw smoke coming out of the barn one time, so we got whipped.
Out of sight of hair smoke and lip ash and bowel cinders,
Only morons smoke
I hate to say it, but, yeah, I'm a tobacco junkie.
Porfiry smoked with professional determination.
She put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it, tasting the familiar taste of nicotine, smoke, and impending lung cancer. It felt good. She
Nona I don't think your allowed to smoke in here.
Nona exhaled a large cloud of smoke.
Nona keeps their lights on. A little smoke won't hurt them.
If you want to talk to me, you'll have to put out that cigarette.
Cirrus sky hawk drift, blue haze in the autumn air, and my mouth is dry.
The match I struck shall not run dead
You're my first inhale, my last cigarette.
I hold the cigarette like i'm in a black-and-white movie.
but when jed lights the match, it spreads to color,
his skin in the campfire light, the spark of his eyes
as he leans in to me
His shirt had more wrinkles than a smoker's lips
That smoke you smell is me frying your brains every time we kiss longer than twenty-three seconds.
Now that I'm gone, I tell you, don't smoke.Smoke-- Yul Brynner
Without sounding arrogant, A Crafty Cigarette is keeping the spirit of The Jam alive, self-belief, being imaginative and having Mod sensibilities
The next time you interfere with me, more than smoke will interfere with you.
I was a smoker for about 20 years.
The uncle lit up and blew smoke in a thin blue viper's breath toward the window. It coiled and diffused in the yellow light. He smiled. I'd like to have a dollar for every time I quit, he said.
Why do you want to put more smoke inside of you?
My lungs are thick with the smoke of your absence.
A smoke in times of rest is a great companion to the solitary soldier.
What's your name? Or is that taboo?--Cinnamon, Hot, Deadly Desire
Chicks cannot hold their smoke, dat's what it is.
The walls inside were charred from some ancient fire, blackened and lichened and weathered hard, smelling faintly of a smoke so old there may be no one still alive who could possibly remember the flame.
You don't smoke do you?"
"No, why?"
"They're afraid of fire."
"Great, we're going to be eaten alive because neither of us smokes."
I almost laughed. He sounded so thoroughly disgusted ...
Fire-breathing bitch-queen.
All through the hood, I'm grippin' wood and blowin' pine
Here was this man Tom Guthrie in Holt standing at the back window in the kitchen of his house smoking cigarettes and looking out over the back lot where the sun was just coming up.
I eventually figured out that a cigarette is nothing more than a pinch of tobacco rolled in paper - with fire at one end and an idiot at the other!
I don't inhale because it gives you cancer, but I look so incredibly handsome with a cigarette that I can't not hold one.
Steve Laury smokes playing octaves.
She had the top down and I could smell everything in those woods, and you know what an old fine smell that is, like something which has been mostly left alone and is not much troubled.
("Mrs. Todd's Shortcut")
All over town kids lay awake & wondered: Am I smart enough, pretty enough, strong enough, tall enough? If our fears were smoke, the town would be covered night & day by an inky pall.
If I want a word, I make it. I don't like combustion. It's too quiet. I have some stuff in a state of combustication.
Do you mind if I don't smoke?
A cigarette is like a hamster, harmless until you stick it in your mouth and light it on fire.
Smoke is not chasing me and making my eyes sweat. My eyes are not burning. I am not crying. I am not standing behind my mother and she is not facing the wall and she is not saying, 'Smoke follows beauty.' Smoke follows beauty. Smoke follows beauty. Smoke follows beauty.
How humid the heart, its messy rooms! We eat spicy food, sweat like wood and smolder like the coal mine that caught fire decades ago, yet still smokes more than my great-uncle who will not quit- or go out-
All over town kids lay awake & wondered: Am I smart enough, pretty enough, st<>rong>ronrong>g enough, tall enough? If our fears were smoke, the town would be covered night & day by an inky pall.
...the unmistakable smell of poverty, a mixture of cigarette smoke, weed, stale sweat, and fried food.
Stubbed it out in the ashtray she had been using before, for her equally
Life without smoking is like the smoke without the roast.
A cigarette is a breathing space. It makes a parenthesis. The time of a cigarette is a parenthesis, and if it is shared, you are both in that parenthesis. It's like a proscenium arch for a dialogue.
So we ate some smoke, so what?"
"You lost most of your eyebrows."
Stunned, she pressed her fingers above her eyes. "Shit! Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's a look.
Oh, come on, Ash, that smells like a unicorn fart.
Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes - gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun.
I don't smoke but I keep a match box in my pocket, when my heart slips towards sin, I burn the matchstick and heat my palm with it, then say to myself, "Ali you can't even bear this heat, how would you bear the unbearable heat of hellfire?"
This blessed gift of smoking!
There's some sorta big bar-be-que goin' on here in turn three. There's smoke all over the track! Some fan's got a big one goin' on.
You smell of cheap cigarettes and dirty sex.
The elephant smoked too much.
my brother's cognac and tobacco talk
Heaven knows what I have not been through with, since I saw you-dust, dirt, dyspepsia, hotels, railroads, prairies, tobacco juice.
Toasted tobacco, no additives,' I said. 'Yum. Tastes like childhood.
The "Art Nouveau" appeal of smoking: manufacture your own pneuma, spirit. "I'm alive." "I'm decorative.