Literary notes about flaky (AI summary)
The term "flaky" in literature carries a dual life, evoking both texture and visual effect. In culinary contexts, it is often used to describe food items that disintegrate into delicate, light layers—as in flaky pie crust, biscuits, or fish that break apart with the touch of a fork [1, 2, 3, 4]. Beyond food, "flaky" portrays transient or fragmentary qualities in nature and objects, from the soft, dispersed edges of clouds glowing at dusk [5, 6] to surfaces marked by brittle, rust-like particles or crumbled ore [7, 8]. Thus, whether lending a tactile quality to a meal or adding a poetic subtlety to a landscape, the word bridges the sensory experience with an almost fragile beauty [9, 10].
- But the savory broiled oysters and flaky biscuit failed to smooth the perplexed brow of M. Verduret.
— from File No. 113 by Emile Gaboriau - If you wish light, flaky pie crust, bake in a hot oven.
— from Mary at the Farm and Book of Recipes Compiled during Her Visitamong the "Pennsylvania Germans" by Edith May Bertels Thomas - Then take it out, unty it, and throw away the skin, and lay the flaky fish in a Cullender, to drain away the water from it.
— from The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Knight Opened by Kenelm Digby - Her biscuits were just as light and flaky as ever.
— from Iola Leroy; Or, Shadows Uplifted by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper - Evening approaches, and new clouds appear between the white flaky fringes of the horizon.
— from The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 19, No. 537, March 10, 1832 by Various - In the sky was a little silvery break, and by its light flaky clouds were seen hurrying away, all in one direction like a flock of birds.
— from Tom Slade's Double Dare by Percy Keese Fitzhugh - There was a gob of junk—scarcely more than an irregular formation of flaky rust.
— from The Eternal Wall by Raymond Z. Gallun - It was a rich flaky ore, containing quite eighty per cent of lead, and marking paper freely.
— from The March to Magdala by G. A. (George Alfred) Henty - And here and yonder a flaky butterfly Was doubting in the air, scarlet and blue.
— from The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1 by George MacDonald - [Pg 257] § 7 In the streets now the June snow fell, not the soft and flaky petals of the North, but a bitter steel-like snow, that whirled.
— from The Wind Bloweth by Donn Byrne
