Quotes About Fragrance

a tangle of sea smell and of weeds and damp, new-plowed earth, mingled with the heavy perfumes of white blossoms somewhere near, but the night sat lightly upon the sea and the land. there was no weight of darkness, there were no shadows. the white light of the moon had fallen upon the world like the mystery and the softness of sleep.

Dortchen ducked through a gap in the trees, following a winding path to a small grove of old linden trees, their branches hanging with heavy creamy-white flowers. A hedge of briar roses, with delicate pink-white flowers blooming among the thorns, shielded them from the eyes of anyone walking past. The garden was alive with birdsong. A blackbird looked at her with a cheeky eye, then hopped away to search for worms. The scent of the linden blossoms was intoxicating.

Smells are custodians of memories.

When I returned, not to Berlin, but to Hamburg in the midst of the fog of the beginning of winter, to the road that runs right above it's river and docks, a castle which never existed and a fountain which is really a sewer, a gust of wind far sweeter and more fragrant than any red rose carried the smell of shit and floating soil like a tongue into my nostril.

One day she yelled, You're always naked except for that bunch of skulls around your neck. In which maggots're living. That you never take off. And you're odoriferous. In a bad way. You think that death's sexy, that's why you stink most of the time; of rot and foul, fetid fur, but you smell worst when you're about to come.

The world was cruel and sudden. This he knew for sure. Relax for a moment, breathe in the scent of a rose, rest in the shade, pet a dog, take a sip of lemonade, fall in love with a dreamy-eyed girl or a haunted-faced man, and you are just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Buzzing around the lemonade, you'll find flies. Follow the flies and you'll find death.

Her lips are roses over-washed with dew, Or like the purple of Narcissus' flower; No frost their fair, no wind doth waste their power, But by her breath her beauties to renew.

When our hands have touched spices, they give fragrance to all they handle. Let us make our prayers pass through the hands of the Blessed Virgin. She will make them fragrant.

Beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.

And the stately lilies stand Fair in the silvery light, Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer; Their pure breath sanctifies the air, As its fragrance fills the night.

Daffodils,That come before the swallow dares, and takeThe winds of March with beauty.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance… and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

O thou weed!Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweetThat the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born.

Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination.

For you there's rosemary and rue; these keepSeeming and savor all the winter long.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.

The Flower that smells the sweetest is Shy and Lowly.

Romance is the sweetening of the soul With fragrance offered by the stricken heart.

At a distance enjoy the fragrance of flowers.

Banul n-o fi avand miros, dar, Doamne! ce bine miroase.

Even the rose, with its traditional connotations of fragrance and purity, can appear in different situations, which underlines the very important point that metaphor is primarily contextual.

For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task? (2 Cor. 2:15-16).

The room has Nic's smell—not the sweet childhood smell he once had, but a cloying odor of incense and marijuana, cigarettes and aftershave, possibly a trace of ammonia or formaldehyde, the residual odor of burning meth. Smells like teen spirit.