Cigarettes are food for the soul

I lit one of Mr. Talbot's cigarettes and hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, wherever they were, were having a much better time than I was. I hoped I would live long enough to come and visit them.

You remind me of a smoked cigarette.

smoking had come to be an important punctuation mark in the long sentence of a day on the road.

With this first cigarette, I kissed childhood goodbye. Now I was a grown-up.

When I was young” … “Before I was twenty, I mean, I used to think that life was a thing that kept gaining impetus, it would get richer and deeper each year. You kept learning more, getting wiser, having more insight, going further into the truth” – she hesitated.

Port laughed abruptly. – “And now you know it’s not like that. Right? It’s more like smoking a cigarette. The first few puffs it tasted wonderful, and you don’t even think of its ever being used up. Then you begin taking it for granted. Suddenly you realize it’s nearly burned down to the end. And then’s when you’re conscious of the bitter taste.

Besides, he was a philosopher; he smoked a good many cigars over his disappointment, and in the
fulness of time he got used to it.

The only time I really think is when I smoke, and I quit smoking years ago.

I like cigarettes, Miss Taggart. I like to think of fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke a cigarette thinking. I wonder what great things have come from those hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind - and it is only proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression.

Love takes time.

As for me, I sealed my act of rebellion against my mother’s dictatorship by smoking the cigarette I’d stolen from my uncle two weeks earlier. Kofff! Kofff! Kofff!!! It was awful. But this was not the moment to give in. With this first cigarette, I kissed childhood goodbye. Now I was a grown-up.

A sip of wine, a cigarette,
And then it’s time to go.
I tidied up the kitchenette;
I tuned the old banjo.
I’m wanted at the traffic-jam.
They’re saving me a seat.

He would talk and talk and talk; the twilight would fill with cigarette smoke and shimmering words would tremble in the blue coils of air...

SIR CHARLES. [Hastily] You smoke, Mr. MALISE? MALISE. Too much. SIR CHARLES. Ah! Must smoke when you think a lot. MALISE. Or think when you smoke a lot. SIR CHARLES. [Genially] Don't know that I find that. LADY DEDMOND. [With her clear look at him] Charles!