Crackle Quotes

There was something soothing about the crackle of paper, the smell of ink, and the soft scratching of nibs and brushes. ~ Leigh Bardugo

It was indeed a long wait, well over two hours. I sat in the car and listened to the radio
and tried to picture, bite by bite, what it was like to eat a medianochesandwich: the
crackle of the bread crust, socrisp and toasty it scratches the inside of your mouth as you
bite down. Then the first taste of mustard, followed by the soothing cheese and the salt of
the meat. Next bite - a piece of pickle. Chew it all up; let the flavors mingle. Swallow.
Take a big sip of Iron Beer (pronounced Ee-roan Bay-er, and it's a soda). Sigh. Sheer
bliss. I would rather eat than do anything else except play with the Passenger. It's a true
miracle of genetics that I am not fat. ~ Jeff Lindsay

As I pass by him, I feel a crackle of tension between us. A slow heat begins its way into my cheeks, mirroring the flush in Grey's, and I realize that I hadn't been the only one acutely aware of his nakedness in the shower. ~ Carrie Ryan

I'm killing Zil. Clear enough? I'm putting him down."
"Whoa, man," Edilio said. "That's not what we do. We're the good guys, right?"
"There has to be an end to it, Edilio." He wiped soot from his face with the back of his hand, but smoke had filled his eyes with tears. "I can't keep doing it and never reaching the end."
"It's not your call anymore," Edilio said.
Sam turned a steely glare on him. "You too? Now you're siding with Astrid?"
"Man, there have to be limits," Edilio said.
Sam stood staring down the street. The fire was out of control. All of Sherman was burning, from one end to the other. If they were lucky it wouldn't jump to another street. But one way or the other, Sherman was lost.
"We should be looking to save any kids that are trapped," Edilio said.
Sam didn't answer.
"Sam," Edilio pleaded.
"I begged Him to let me die, Edilio. I prayed to the God who Astrid likes so much and I said, God, if You're there, kill me. Don't let me feel this pain anymore."
Edilio said nothing.
"You don't understand, Edilio," Sam said so softly, he doubted Edilio could hear him over the roar and crackle of the fire raging all around them. "You can't do anything else with people like this. You have to kill them all. Zil. Caine. Drake. You just have to kill them. So right now, I'm starting with Zil and his crew," Sam said. "You can come with me or not. ~ Michael Grant

I pour upward through the long dark tunnel of the spout. I am a funnel of smoke, a whirlwind of fire. I open myself and multiply, swelling into a great cloud over the boy's head. I press a thousand smoky hands against the stone ceiling of the cave. I roll a thousand fiery eyes and stretch a thousand glittering legs. I unfold and unfold and unfold. How good it feels to be out! I crackle with energy and excitement, my blood lightning and my breath thunder. ~ Jessica Khoury

ARE YOU LIVING THE LIFE THAT YOUR MAKER INTENDED?
Does your life lack the flavor, the crackle, the intensity you've hoped for?
Daily, we find ourselves bombarded by a thousand recommendations for extending the duration of our lives - exercise three times weekly! smoke in moderation! exchange sugar for saccharine! - but the truth is that time does not gain value by accruing. Time acquires value by being "spent," and spent freely. The longest life is not always the best one; in the marjority of cases, just the opposite.
If you are, in fact, living the life that your maker intended - it may be time to seek another maker. ~ John Wray

He'd always loved how she fought him. He loved the crackle and spark of her wit. Now he discovered he also loved the way she lay against him in what felt like perfect trust. ...
Antonia was a tall, vital woman, no shrinking miss. Now she felt brittle and vulnerable. He tightened his hold and told himself the surge of protectiveness meant nothing. Again he couldn't quite believe it. ~ Anna Campbell

I pass beneath a fixed white line of trees where dry leaves lie for footsteps to dismember. They crackle with a muted sound like fear. That and the wind are all that I can hear. I ask cold air, "What is the word that frees?" The wind says, "Change," and the white sun, "Remember. ~ Samuel R. Delany

He was answered by a long plastic crackle, not a question, but not an instruction either. Softer in tone. Encouragement, maybe. Or reassurance. The one-eyed guy said, "OK, sure," and hung up. ~ Lee Child

Was that a wolf?" Camille asked Ira, who was bent over the fire. The echoing howl faded in the crackle of the wood.
"No wolves 'round here. Those are dingoes," he answered. "Wild dogs. Not dangerous, don't worry."
He didn't look at her, spoke too fast, and she didn't believe him. ~ Angie Frazier

Late autumn this year had violence in her hair, angry crimson, orange, and yellow. The trees wrestled to free themselves of their cloaks, crumpled up their old leaves and threw them straight out into the string wind rather than just let them fall to the ground. Dry leaves ran across the ground with the crackle of fire. ~ Cecilia Ekbäck

The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.

She is used to this type of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag. ~ Sylvia Plath

Chris Ofili's suave, stippled, visually tricked-out paintings of the nineties, with their allover fields of shimmering dots and clumps of dung, are like cave paintings of modern life. They crackle with optical cockiness, love, and massive amounts of painterly mojo. ~ Jerry Saltz

Paranoid Android

Please could you stop the noise, I'm trying to get some rest
From all the unborn chicken voices in my head
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)

When I am king, you will be first against the wall
With your opinion which is of no consequence at all
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but no android)
What's that…? (I may be paranoid, but no android)

Ambition makes you look pretty ugly
Kicking and squealing gucci little piggy
You don't remember
You don't remember
Why don't you remember my name?
Off with his head, man
Off with his head, man
Why don't you remember my name?
I guess he does….

Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a great height… height…
Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a great height… height…
Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me

That's it, sir
You're leaving
The crackle of pigskin
The dust and the screaming
The yuppies networking
The panic, the vomit
The panic, the vomit
God loves his children, God loves his children, yeah! ~ Radiohead

He felt the stress and strain of life, its fevers and sweats and wild insurgences - surely this was the stuff to write about! He wanted to glorify the leaders of forlorn hopes, the mad lovers, the giants that fought under stress and strain, amid terror and tragedy, making life crackle with the strength of their endeavor. And ~ Jack London

When the logs in the fireplace crackle merrily, the corpse of a beech or oak is going up in flames. The paper in the book you are holding in your hands right now is made from the shavings of spruce, and birches were expressly felled (that is to say, killed) for this purpose. Does that sound over the top? I don't think so. For if we keep in mind all we have learned in the previous chapters, parallels can definitely be drawn to pigs and pork. Not to put too fine a point on it, we use living things killed for our purposes. Does that make our behavior reprehensible? Not necessarily. After all, we are also part of Nature, and we are made in such a way that we can survive only with the help of organic substances from other species. We share this necessity with all other animals. The real question is whether we help ourselves only to what we need from the forest ecosystem, and-analogous to our treatment of animals-whether we spare the trees unnecessary suffering when we do this.

That means it is okay to use wood as long as trees are allowed to live in a way that is appropriate to their species. And that means that they should be allowed to fulfill their social needs, to grow in a true forest environment on undisturbed ground, and to pass their knowledge on to the next generation. And at least some of them should be allowed to grow old with dignity and finally die a natural death. ~ Peter Wohlleben

They stopped thinking with an almost painful relief, stopped seeing; they only breathed and sought each other. They were both in the gray gentle world of a mild hangover of fatigue when the nerves relax in bunches like piano strings, and crackle suddenly like wicker chairs. Nerves so raw and tender must surely join other nerves, lips to lips, breast to breast ... ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

And in that single crackle of tortured electronics she had lost everything. Her comm, her lights, her limited maneuvering jets, her life support regulator, her emergency beacons.

Everything.

For a second her thoughts flickered to Skywalker. He'd been lost in deep space, too, awhile back. But she'd had a reason to find him. No one had a similar reason to find her. ~ Timothy Zahn

Sugar flake that, yo. Snap, crackle, pop. ~ Liz Ruckdeschel

In every drop of water, gust of air, speck of earth, and crackle of lightning, she hears the same thing: This world is alive. And it loves her.
A little while later, the storm notices that Jael has fallen asleep. The rain tapers off. The clouds sneak away like they're trying not to wake her. The wind caresses her cheek one last time, then disperses in all directions. It carries with it the memory of this funny girl with the sad green eyes. And it carries with it a little bit of hope that things might change. That the world might become what it was supposed to be. ~ Jon Skovron

I'm not leaving this cabin again until you've laid your egg."
Kellan snuggled up to Vic. "Our egg, remember?"
"Mmm. Our baby." Vic buried his nose in Kellan's hair. "This is all so surreal, but I couldn't be more thrilled."
They held each other in silence, the only sound being the rustle of the branches in the light wind and the crackle of the well-seasoned wood in the fireplace. Part of what Vic had said sunk in.
"Hey, Vic?"
"Yeah?"
"You can't stay here round the clock with it being so busy at the inn and everything. It's Christmas week. I've heard you say plenty of times that it gets crazy between now and New Year's Day."
Vic tightened his hold. "I don't care."
Kellan rolled his eyes. "But it's not fair to everyone else. It's bad enough that I'm not there helping as it is." He glanced up at Vic. "And what about food?" They took most of their meals at the restaurant since it was so convenient.
Vic stuck out his lower lip. "I'll make Dora deliver them to the cabin."
Kellan sighed. "Vic, you're not being reasonable."
He huffed. "Reasonable? Who cares about reasonable? My mate is about to lay an egg at any minute!"
Kellan let out a laugh, then grabbed his abdomen. It didn't hurt, but it sure as hell felt weird. Too much pressure.
Vic gasped, grabbing Kellan's upper arms then holding him back, his gaze roaming Kellan's body. "Is it time? Should you go lie down in the nest?"
This is going to be fu ~ M.M. Wilde

Looking back, I wonder if mom saw it in my eyes: the storm clouds gathering, the dry crackle of electricity in the air. But it was already too late. No warning sirens were going to save me. I guess you never really know the danger, not until you're the one left, huddled on the ground, surrounded by the pieces of your broken heart. ~ Melody Grace

Humans, so easily electrified by the snap, crackle, pop of blood, brutality, and butchery. ~ Artemis Crow

crackle to life. Recognizing the captain's voice, she reached ~ Nicholas Sparks

To become a celebrity is to become a brand name. There is Ivory Soap, Rice Krispies, and Philip Roth. Ivory is the soap that floats; Rice Krispies the breakfast cereal that goes snap-crackle-pop; Philip Roth the Jew who masturbates with a piece of liver. ~ Philip Roth

There is no point to any of this. It's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of neat escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know, a quarter pounder with cheese, those are good; the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a crackle…and I sit back and I smoke my camel straight and I ride my own melt. ~ Troy Dyer

Squatting on old bones and excrement and rusty iron, in a white blaze of heat, a panorama of naked idiots stretches to the horizon. Complete silence - their speech centres are destroyed - except for the crackle of sparks and the popping of singed flesh as they apply electrodes up and down the spine. White smoke of burning flesh hangs in the motionless air. A group of children have tied an idiot to a post with barbed wire and built a fire between his legs and stand watching with bestial curiosity as the flames lick his thighs. His flesh jerks in the fire with insect agony. ~ William S. Burroughs

Kingsley could 'do' the sound of a brass band approaching on a foggy day. He could become the Metropolitan line train entering Edgware Road station. He could be four wrecked tramps coughing in a bus shelter (this was very demanding and once led to heart palpitations). To create the hiss and crackle of a wartime radio broadcast delivered by Franklin Delano Roosevelt was for him scant problem (a tape of it, indeed, was played at his memorial meeting, where I was hugely honored to be among the speakers). The pièce de résistance, an attempt by British soldiers to start up a frozen two-ton truck on a windy morning 'somewhere in Germany,' was for special occasions only. One held one's breath as Kingsley emitted the first screech of the busted starting-key. His only slightly lesser vocal achievement - of a motor-bike yelling in mechanical agony - once caused a man who had just parked his own machine in the street to turn back anxiously and take a look. The old boy's imitation of an angry dog barking the words 'fuck off' was note-perfect. ~ Christopher Hitchens

The futures of Crackle and Hulu and so forth become more and more important as we connect to more and more devices. We need our content to make our services as attractive as Apple's or Amazon's or Microsoft's. We're in a brave new world of fierce competition. ~ Howard Stringer

The way of Providence is a little rude. The habit of snake and spider, the snap of the tiger and other leapers and bloody jumpers, the crackle of the bones of his prey in the coil of the anaconda-these are in the system, and our habits are like theirs. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

He passed the open library door, then stopped, returned. He pushed the door wider to see Kestrel more fully.
A fire burned in the grate. The room was warm, and Kestrel was browsing the shelves as if this were her home, which Arin wanted it to be. Her back to him, she slid a book from its row, a finger on top of its spine.
She seemed to sense his presence. She slid the book back and turned. The graze on her cheek had scabbed over. Her blackened eye had sealed shut. The other eye studied him, almond-shaped, amber, perfect. The sight of her rattled Arin even more than he had expected.
"Don't tell people why you killed Cheat," she said. "It won't win you any favors."
"I don't care what they think of me. They need to know what happened."
"It's not your story to tell."
A charred log shifted on the fire. Its crackle and sift was loud. "You're right," Arin said slowly, "but I can't lie about this."
"Then say nothing."
"I'll be questioned. I'll be held accountable by our new leader, though I'm not sure who will take Cheat's place--"
"You. Obviously."
He shook his head.
Kestrel lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She turned back to the books.
"Kestrel, I didn't come in here to talk politics."
Her hand trembled slightly, then swept along the titles to hide it.
Arin didn't know how much last night had changed things between them, or in what way. "I'm sorry," he said. "Cheat should never have been a threat to you. You shoul ~ Marie Rutkoski

A sentence can offer a moment of quiet, it can crackle with energy or it can just lie there, listless and uninteresting. What makes the difference? The verb. ~ Constance Hale

We swam in sunshine and in rain; we swam in the morning, when the sea was sluggish as soup, we swam at night, the water flowing over our arms like undulations of black satin; one afternoon we stayed in the water during a thunderstorm, and a fork of lightning struck the surface of the sea so closer to us we heard the crackle of it and smelt the burnt air. ~ John Banville

And you probably have little idea of how delicious - how toothsome - how scrumptious - they are when eaten fresh. Of course, I have my worm larder -" He corrected himself. "Worm larders, well stocked, but the earthworm pursued, or promptly pounced upon, and eaten fresh - as I've said - Ah! the earthworm, there's nothing like it! You can have your slugs and your wireworms and your leatherjackets and as many ground beetles as you like to eat - snap! crackle! crunch! You can have them all! There's nothing to equal the near liquefaction of worm meat as I pass its length through my fingers, sieving out the earth granules from the creature's incessant feeding. Or alternatively tear it to eat at once in great guzzling, gulping chunks. ~ Philippa Pearce

Flames as large as houses don't crackle - they roar. ~ Zoraida Cordova

Whenever they met, the air crackled and sparks flew in the sky. ~ Avijeet Das

There was nowhere to go, but I turned to go and met Atticus's vest front. I buried my head in it and listened to the small internal noises that went on behind the light blue cloth: his watch ticking, the faint crackle of his starched shirt, the soft sound of his breathing.
'Your stomach's growling,' I said.
'I know it,' he said. ~ Harper Lee

My skin came alive under his fingers, every touch an electric crackle through my veins. ~ Andrea Cremer

It was as if his eye were an ear and a crackle went through it each time he shot a look at the accordion ...
The notes fell, biting and sharp; it seemed the tooth that bit was hollowed with pain. ~ Annie Proulx

I miss the flowers; more than anything else I miss the flowers,' she mused. And sought after them even in the paintings which we brought from the shops and the galleries, magnificent canvases such as I'd never seen in New Orleans-from the classically executed lifelike bouquets, tempting you to reach for the petals that fell on a three-dimensional tablecloth, to a new and disturbing style in which the colors seemed to blaze with such intensity they destroyed the old lines, the old solidity, to make a vision like to those states when I'm nearest my delirium and flowers grow before my eyes and crackle like the flames of lamps. Paris flowed into these rooms. ~ Anne Rice

At night, when he is sure his father is sleeping, he sticks the phonograph needle in a rubber eraser and holds the eraser in his front teeth. Carefully, with his nose inches from the record, he sets the needle down. With a hiss and crackle, the music reverberates through the hollows of his mouth and throat without making a sound in the room. Ignoring the cramp in his neck, this is how he listens to his favorite records night after night. ~ Lydia Peelle

Elliot had always thought that touch was the most intimate way a man and a woman could connect. A kiss. A hand across the base of the neck or a brush of fingertips against the small of the back. But if his thundering heart gave any indication, the moment of honesty Wren had shared in that single look made the air crackle with tension, of the kind he'd never known before. ~ Kristy Cambron

From the classically executed lifelike bouquets, tempting you to reach for the petals that fell on a three-dimensional tablecloth, to a new and disturbing style in which the colors seemed to blaze with such intensity they destroyed the old lines, the old solidity, to make a vision like those states which I'm nearest my delirium and flowers grow before my eyes and crackle like the flames of lamps. ~ Anne Rice

If you were my girl," he says, but there's an explosion outside in the courtyard, and I miss the punchline. Fireworks crackle in showers of pink, green, blue, white, green, pink, orange. The museum-goers on the escalators heading upwards erupt in a frenzy of applause as we continue heading down. "If you were my girl," Josh says, pressing his nose against my ear. I turn my head, and the lights and the noise and the people disappear. The distance between us disappears.
Our kiss was anything but shy. ~ Stephanie Perkins

Between Friday evening and Sunday afternoon, I broke into a total of six offices, one penthouse suite and a small bank, and cursed them all. I cursed the stones they were built on, the bricks in their walls, the paint on their ceilings, the carpets on their floors. I cursed the nylon chairs to give their owners little electric shocks, I cursed the markers to squeak on the whiteboard, the hinges to rust, the glass to run, the windows to stick, the fans to whir, the chairs to break, the computers to crash, the papers to crease, the pens to smear; I cursed the pipes to leak, the coolers to drip, the pictures to sag, the phones to crackle and the wires to spark. And we enjoyed it. ~ Kate Griffin

His presence made the air crackle with electricity, mostly because of all the spontaneous ovulating going on when he walked in. ~ Darynda Jones

The sky above them was an intense velvety black, changing to bands of Indian red on the horizon, where the great stars burned like street-lamps. From time to time a greenish wave of the Northern Lights would roll across the hollow of the high heavens, flick like a flag, and disappear; or a meteor would crackle from darkness to darkness, trailing a shower of sparks behind. Then they could see the ridged and furrowed surface of the floe tipped and laced with strange colours - red, copper, and bluish; but in the ordinary starlight everything turned to one frost-bitten gray. ~ Rudyard Kipling

The eyes themselves were of that baffling protean gray which is never twice the same; which runs through many shades and colorings like intershot silk in sunshine; which is gray, dark and light, and greenish gray, and sometimes of the clear azure of the deep sea. They were eyes that masked the soul with a thousand guises, and that sometimes opened, at rare moments, and allowed it to rush up as though it were about to fare forth nakedly into the world on some wonderful adventure
eyes that could brood with the hopeless somberness of leaden skies; that could snap and crackle points of fire like those that sparkle from a whirling sword; that could grow chill as an arctic landscape, and yet again, that could warm and soften and be all adance with love-lights, intense and masculine, luring and compelling, which at the same time fascinate and dominate women till they surrender in a gladness of joy and of relief and sacrifice. ~ Jack London

No one can hope that men who have fought in silence for four years and are now fighting all day long in the din of bombs and the crackle of guns will agree to the return of the forces of surrender and injustice under any circumstances. No one can expect that these men will again accept doing what the best and purest did for twenty-five years - that is, loving their country and silently despising her leaders, ~ Albert Camus

Many of the names in this book are thus the sort people call "traditional." Others couldn't be further from traditional if they were distressed to within an inch of their lives and coated with a crackle glaze. Some ~ K.M. Sheard

But had he felt the same crackle of electricity when they'd met? Was it possible for only one person to feel that kind of instant attraction, that almost irresistible pull towards someone else? Surely it had to work two ways, or what was the point of it? ~ Lulu Taylor

The central question of any execution: do you want the hood on or off? Would you rather see it coming? Or would you rather simply drift away, cocooned in warm darkness, stinking of nothing but yourself? A kind, familiar place to hide in, just before the snap, the crackle? Or the pop? ~ Gemma Files

Some sounds are so exquisite - far more exquisite than anything seen. Daff's purr there on my rug, for instance - and the snap and crackle of the fire - and the squeaks and scrambles of mice that are having a jamboree behind the wainscot. ~ L.M. Montgomery

His voice was soothing ans commanding all at once, like the crackle of flames devouring wood. Fierce and fatal, yet somehow steady and reassuring. The type of voice a girl could have been easily consumed by. ~ Stephanie Garber

Words. I had always loved them. I collected them, like I had collected pretty stones as a child. I liked to roll words over my tongue like a lump of molten honeycomb, savouring the sweetness, the crackle, the crunch. ~ Kate Forsyth

Then the green man's face grew even blacker, the red beard so red it seemed to crackle and sparkle like fir twigs on the fire; the mouth contracted to an arrow-like point before it opened to inquire in the sweetest, gentlest tones. ~ Jeremias Gotthelf

Skin. Blue sparks writhed across his hands like tiny snakes. Rain washed his face. "This is the best," he shouted, over the roar of the storm. As if it understood him, the bird began to rise higher, every wing-beat a clap of thunder, and it swooped and dove and tumbled through the dark clouds. "In my dream, I was hunting you," said Shadow, his words ripped away by the wind. "In my dream. I had to bring back a feather." Yes. The word was a static crackle in the radio of his mind. They ~ Neil Gaiman

For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crowned.The berries crackle, and the mill turns round ... At once they gratify their scent and taste.And frequent cups prolong the rich repast ... Coffee (which makes the politician wise And see through all things with his half-shut eyes). ~ Alexander Pope

A Tangible Reminder":
"Underfoot rustling unsilent leaves
Crackle electric ecstasy
Spice the autumn air,
A tangible reminder
That death can be a glory. ~ Elizabeth Barrette

Beeswax, with its subtle undertones of smoke and honey. The smell of ink on wet paper, the sickly-sweet smell of decay. The sweat of clean bodies, the scent of burnt gloves. She loved the crackle of the fire and the clang of the tools. She loved the magic of sweat-streaked alchemists who blew down metal pipes and created bubbles within molten glass. She loved the flawless final chapter, the glistening undulations as smooth as ice. ~ Angela Panayotopulos

I stared at the room full of caskets on display-their lids gaping open like hungry mouths, waiting to swallow up the newly departed. I decided I'd much rather exit this world in a crackle of flames and a swirl of smoke through my ribs than be cooped up for all eternity in a dark box surrounded by puffy white satin. ~ Beth Hoffman

But if you do find your thing, something that makes your blood crackle, you better damn well do it. ~ Steven Camden

A woman living in a grand house may pride herself on all her lovely things; but the moment she hears the crackle of fire she decides very quickly which are the few she values the most. ~ Arthur Golden

Enochian was the wail of dying stars, the whisper of galaxies winging through the void, the gurgle of primordial oceans, the crackle of a cooling planet,
the thunder of creation. And beneath it all , a simmering undercurrent of malevolence. ~ Ian Tregillis

Even with the crackle of the flames, the silence was unbearable. He wanted to ask her why she'd done it. Why she'd lied about Lilly. But whenever he tried to shape his thoughts into words, they died on his lips. Eventually, ~ Kass Morgan

The day had begun like any other ordinary day for Barnabas Crackle. That is to say, as extra-ordinarily as his days typically began, which were the usual for our faithful protagonist. ~ Brooke Warra

She reached toward the chessboard, and he caught her hand in his. "Believe me," he whispered. "When I wish to be, I can be very convincing." He followed the seam of her fingers with this thumb, tracing slowly upward until he reached the soft cleft below her knuckles. He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted. Then he stroked the spot lightly - a quick, circular caress - and she made a little sound, half gasp and half sigh. That little sound - that tiny, panting breath - was very nearly his undoing. Jeremy knew that sound. It was the tumbler of a lock falling in place, the charged crackle between lightning and thunderbolt, the hiss of a candlewick the instant before it comes alive with flame. An incomplete sound. A sound that promised - and begged for - more. ~ Tessa Dare

Place a lump of fresh butter in a pan or egg dish and let it melt - that is, just enough for it to spread, and never, of course, to crackle or sit; open a very fresh egg onto a small plate or saucer and slide it carefully into the pan; cook it on heat so low that the white barely turns creamy, and the yolk becomes hot but remains liquid; in a separate saucepan, melt another lump of fresh butter; remove the egg onto a lightly heated serving plate; salt it and pepper it, then very gently pour this fresh, warm butter over it ~ Fernand Point

Rose took my nose, I suppose," he repeated; the bubble of phlegm in his throat made a disgusting crackle. "And it really blows. ~ James Dashner

You listen to people, you listen so deeply that you can hear their past lives,
The crackle of their funeral pyres, ~ Dick Allen

Octave staggered to his feet, his stick swinging back to point toward Nicholas. He felt a wave of heat and saw spellfire crackle along the length of polished wood, preparing itself for another explosive burst. Crack was moving toward Octave, but Madeline shouted, "Get back!"
Nicholas ducked, as a shot exploded behind him. Octave fell backward on the carpet and the blue lightning flared once and vanished with a sharp crackle.
Nicholas looked at Madeline. She stepped forward, holding a small double-action revolver carefully and frowning down at the corpse. He said, "I wondered what you were waiting for."
"You were in my line of fire, dear," she said, preoccupied. "But look. ~ Martha Wells

Parents embraced "Sesame Street" for several reasons, among them that it assuaged their guilt over the fact that they could not or would not restrict their children's access to television. "Sesame Street" appeared to justify allowing a four- or five-year-old to sit transfixed in front of a television screen for unnatural periods of time. Parents were eager to hope that television could teach their children something other than which breakfast cereal has the most crackle. At the same time, "Sesame Street" relieved them of the responsibility of teaching their pre-school children how to read - no small matter in a culture where children are apt to be considered a nuisance ... We now know that "Sesame Street" encourages children to love school only if school is like "Sesame Street." Which is to say, we now know that "Sesame Street" undermines what the traditional idea of schooling represents. ~ Neil Postman

Some instantaneous connection had occurred between them. The very air in the room seemed to crackle with the awareness of it. A wave of heat suffused her body to centre between her legs, suddenly she felt breathless and hyper aware of him. There was no way this man could remain unaffected by the sheer magnitude of the invisible bonds that had just linked them irretrievably together. She wondered what he was thinking behind those beautiful navy blue eyes. Okay so she didn't really expect him to open his mouth and spout poetry or declare his undying love but she certainly wasn't prepared for his next words.
"You aren't going to throw up are you? This is one of my favourite suits. ~ Jane Cousins

Sweeties were a breakfast cereal. They did not snap,crackle or pop, or do anything the more talented cereals did. ~ Ruth Park

She'd heard my theory on funnel cake and celery stalker men before. Most men were either like funnel cake: delicious and interesting, but who at the end of the day just aren't good for the heart or complexion. Or they were celery: a sensible, healthy choice that didn't really bring much to the table but an occasional crunch. If you OD on celery, you end up bingeing on cake behind closed doors.

Funnel cake, while warm and delicious, is difficult to make. But you go there because you long for it like the double-twist stomach-dropping roller coaster as soon as you arrive at the amusement park. Wet ribbons of batter crackle and pop until golden and crisp, yielding in the center. The steamy swirls of tender yellow dough absorb confectioners' sugar like pores. When the luxurious fat melts on your tongue, you exhale. You've got sticky batter, dribbling down spouts, leaving rings on your clean countertops, splattering oil growing darker and beginning to smoke. Layers of paper towels and oil-draining weapons clutter your space. With funnel cake, you've got steps to follow. Procedures. Rules.

No one makes rules about celery. It's always around for the snacking. You choose it when you're dieting or trying not to consume too many wings over football. Come to think of it, you don't even bother eating it when you diet. Instead it's a conduit for blue cheese. You use it to make stocks and stuffing. It becomes filler, pantry almost. ~ Stephanie Klein

When our fingers touch a crackle of electricity passes between us. ~ Cathy Cassidy

Magic swirls about us like an invisible fog of energy that can be tapped by those gifted enough, using a variety of techniques that center on layered spelling, mumbled incantations, and a burst of concentrated thought channeled through the index fingers. The technical name for this energy is "variable electro-gravitational mutable subatomic force," which doesn't mean anything at all
confused scientists just gave it an important-sounding name so as not to lose face. The usual term is "wizidrical energy," or simply "the crackle. ~ Jasper Fforde

All I heard was the blood rushing through my ears, and the distant rumble and crackle of the Lake of Fire. (And Khufu scratching himself and grunting, but that was nothing new.) ~ Rick Riordan

The oak trees had shed their leaves, revealing the inky thumbprints of crows' nests in the crackle glaze of dark branches. ~ Kevin Ansbro

I'd come to appreciate the sounds of silence. I'd grown accustomed to the stillness of Ponder, where one could hear the snow being blown off the tree limbs by the wind, the distant cry of a caribou, and the crackle of the Northern Lights. ~ Debbie Macomber

It was as though Cutflower was so glad to be alive that he never lived. Every moment was vivid, a coloured thing, a trill or a crackle of words in the air. Who could imagine, while Cutflower was around, that there were such vulgar monsters as death, birth, love, art and pain around the corner? It was too embarrassing to contemplate. If Cutflower knew of them he kept it secret. Over their gaping and sepulchral deeps he skimmed now here, now there, in his private canoe, changing his course with a flick of his paddle when death's black whale, or the red squid of passion, lifted for a moment its body from the brine. ~ Mervyn Peake

J.D. cleared his throat and pushed the button on the intercom.
"Uh, Payton, hi. It's J.D."
Dead silence.
Then another crackle.
"Sorry. Not interested."
Cute. But J.D. persisted. Again with the button.
"I want to talk to you."
Crackle.
"Ever hear of a telephone, asshole?"
Okay, he probably deserved that. ~ Julie James

He tracks the rise and fall of the glittering darkness thronged with specks and tendrils of luminous secrets. Falling stars crackle in the cold air and prickle his skin. They flash in the corner of his vision where the eye's discernment of light and shadow is most acute. ~ John Pipkin