Loved this quote from an 1853 NYT editorial about public smoking:

"What right has any man to become a perambulating nuisance—a moving smoke-house—a traveling volcano—leaving his trail of nauseous vapor on the air, which his neighbor cannot avoid, but must, perforce, respire?"

It'll come to mind the next time I weave through a crowd of smokers outside the Canterbury on my way home—and, yes, I realize that I'm the perambulating nuisance when I'm holding my breath and hurrying past the idiots outside the Canterbury. But still: what right does a man have to leave a trail of nauseous vapor on the air?