This is not a smoking gun. This provides a framework, but not the answer.

If I had felt then as I feel now, or as I felt a few years after I had married her, nothing could possibly have persuaded me to marry a woman who smoked. Dates, yes. Sexual adventures, yes. But to pin myself permanently inside closed quarters with a smoker? Never. Never. Never. Beauty wouldn't count, sweetness wouldn't count, suitability in every other respect wouldn't count.

The only way to stop smoking is to just stop ð no ifs, ands or butts

It's not the cigarette that kills you, it's the thought behind the cigarette

It's not the cigarette that kills you, it's the thoughts behind the cigarette that does.

We're steadfastly committed to smoking her out ... so she has to answer some questions from the public.