The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, — Tobacco

"Thou in such a cloud dost bind us, That our worst foes cannot find us, And ill fortune, that would thwart us, Shoots at rovers, shooting at us; While each man, through thy heightning steam, Does like a smoking Etna seem."

"Havent we had about enough of this cigar smoking shit? When are these fat, arrogant, overfed, white-collar business criminals going to extinguish their cigars and move along to their next abomination? Soft, white, business pussies suckin on a big brown dick. Thats all it is, folks, a big, brown dick. You know, Freud used to say, "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar." Yeah? Well, sometimes its a big brown dick! With a fat, criminal business asshole sucking on the wet end of it! But, hey. The news is not all bad for me. Not all bad. Want to hear the good part? Cancer of the mouth. Good! Fuck em! Makes me happy; its an attractive disease. So light up, suspender-man, and suck that smoke deep down into your empty suit. And blow it out your ass, you miserable cocksucker!"

"A good cigar is like a beautiful chick with a great body who also knows the American League box scores."

"And twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took t away again; Who therefor angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff."

"His pipe was always going out, And then hed have to search about In all his pockets, and hed mow O, deary me! and, musha now! And then hed light his pipe, and then Hed let it go clean out again."

"Thou through such a mist dost show us, That our best friends do not know us."