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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
 
Smoking
 
        May never lady press his lips, his proffer’d love returning,
Who makes a furnace of his mouth, and keeps his chimney burning;
May each true woman shun his sight, for fear his fumes should choke her,
And none but those who smoke themselves have kisses for a smoker.
Anonymous.    
  1
        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.
Crabbe.    
  2
 
 
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