David Haye
David Haye

If I didn't have a great right hook, the bigger, heavier fighters would grind me down and smother me.

Fred Upton
Fred Upton

Americans want and deserve a broad array of health insurance choices so they can identify those that best fit their own individual or family needs. These choices expand when we allow free enterprise to foster innovation, not smother it with taxes and one-size fits all ideology.

Gerry Spence
Gerry Spence

Government is operated by deeply embedded, hopelessly entangled bureaus where nothing is accomplished because the function of the bureau is to intercept every living idea and smother it.

Lewis B. Smedes
Lewis B. Smedes

When we forgive evil we do not excuse it, we do not tolerate it, we do not smother it. We look the evil full in the face, call it what it is, let its horror shock and stun and enrage us, and only then do we forgive it.

Stephanie Beacham
Stephanie Beacham

When I was young I used to smother myself with olive oil mixed with a dash of vinegar to keep the flies away and lay in the sunshine for hours on end. But we knew no better then. Now we know how stupid that was.

Fight Club
Fight Club

Narrator: [while brutally beating Angel Face] I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.

Fight Club
Fight Club

Narrator: [while brutally beating Angel Face] I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.

The Green Mile
The Green Mile

Jan Edgecomb: [to Paul] Honey, if you don't tell me what's on your mind, I'm afraid I'll have to smother you with a pillow.

Chef
Chef

Carl Casper: [excitedly reading Ramsey Michel's review] "Gauloises: Eager to Please. Ten years ago, I had the good fortune to dine at Chef Casper's revelatory Miami bistro, Marrow. The sheer audacity of this fresh, brave voice of the culinary scene reminded me why I write about food as a vocation. It is nearly impossible to separate my glowing regard for Chef Casper and how much

he inspired me from my expectations as I sat down to dine at the recently remodeled Brentwood Gallic staple, Gauloises. Oh, how times have changed."
[not so enthused]
Carl Casper: "Over the last decade, Carl Casper has somehow managed to transform himself from the edgiest chef in Miami to the needy aunt that gives you five dollars every time you see her in hopes that

you will like her, but instead causes you to shrink from her cloying embrace which threatens to smother you in her saggy, moist cleavage. The signature app, intended to impress the country club brunch crowd, is the caviar egg. A shirred egg topped with a dollop of caviar is an excuse for the chef to overcharge us for his insecurity and lack of imagination. Carl Casper can be best summed up by the

first bite of his needy, and yet, by some miracle, also irrelevant chocolate lava cake. Casper didn't even have the courage to undercook the cake, thus curiously lacking its signature molten center. This sad dessert is emblematic of Carl Casper's disappointing new chapter. His dramatic... weight gain can only be explained by the fact that he must be eating all the... food sent back to the kitchen.

Two stars."

The Lighthouse
The Lighthouse

Thomas Wake: Yer fond of me lobster aint' ye? I seen it - yer fond of me lobster! Say it! Say it. Say it!
Ephraim Winslow: I don't have to say nothin'.
Thomas Wake: Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK!
Thomas Wake: Hark Triton, hark! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full

foul in his fury! Black waves teeming with salt foam to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs til' ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more - only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard take up his fell be-finned arm, his coral-tine trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and

plunges right through yer gullet, bursting ye - a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now and nothing for the harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself - forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff for part

of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea!
Ephraim Winslow: Alright, have it your way. I like your cookin'.