There was something soothing about the crackle of paper, the smell of ink, and the soft scratching of nibs and brushes.
When our fingers touch a crackle of electricity passes between us.
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).