Quotes About Fragrance

During a snowstorm we built a fire, and made my grandma's stuffing and my mom's layered Jell-O, and mashed potatoes with lumps and my mom's delicious gravy and every other family thing we loved. We filled the house with the fragrance of sage, pumpkin, apples and cinnamon.

Y el pequeño tocador donde ya no queda sino un solo frasco que no sostiene sino polvo endurecido sobre una sustancia seca y transparente como resina mineralizada en la que quedó encerrada y conservada una mariposa nocturna para materializar y preservar la imagen del revolotear sin causa.

En ese rato ha llovido y ha escampado. Un olor fragante entra por la rendija, aliviando la tristeza. O cambiándola de sitio. Con cierto humilde consuelo: el que cuando ya nada subsista del pasado que ahora es nuestro presente, los olores perdurarán aún, cargando nuestro recuerdo.

I unpetalled you, like a rose, to see your soul, and I didn't see it. But everything around -horizons of land and of seas-, everything, out to the infinite, was filled with a fragrance, enormous and alive.

Other fragrances are believed to enhance psychic ability—the ability to perceive spirits. These include lilac, rosemary, violet, and wisteria. The fragrance of myrrh is traditionally believed to open portals to spirit realms.

The term incense now refers to any material used to produce a fragrant aroma when burned, but it originally referred specifically to gum resins exuded by Boswellia trees. As the word began to be used more generally, these gum resins became known as frankincense, meaning true (frank) incense.

Most spirits possess various forms, which they consistently assume. • Most also possess various preferences in food, fragrance, colors, and gifts. • Some spirits are identified with certain numbers, trees, animals, birds, or plants. • Individual spirits possess specific symbols, known as attributes, which serve as the equivalent of a calling card. Poseidon's attribute is a trident; Rosmerta's is a cornucopia

I breathed in and out, perfume and smoke, perfume and smoke, and we lay like that for a long time, until I heard the seagulls crying, sadder than a funeral, and I knew it was almost morning.

He didn't know her name, didn't know anything about her except that she dreamed of Rome and smelled like violets. And that she tasted like vanilla cream.

As cool as the pale wet leaves of lily-of-the-valley She lay beside me in the dawn.

Alba As cool as the pale wet leaves of lily-of-the-valley She lay beside me in the dawn.

The air pregnant with rainbows shatters its mirrors over the grove. - Air

Smells, I think, may be the last thing on earth to die.

And a rose, she lived as roses do, the space of a morn.

Consider the rose...The rose is the sweetest smelling flower of all, and it's the most beautiful because it's the most simple, right? But sometimes, you got to clip the rose. You got to cut the rose back, so something sweeter smelling and stronger, and even more beautiful, will grow in its place

Perfume companies ought to bottle the smell of crisp bacon. Forget pheromones. I'll bet a woman with a little spot of bacon grease behind her ears would attract every male within a five-mile radius.

His cologne smelled like too many European businessmen jammed into a morning elevator.

Ladies bathed before noon, after their three-o'clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.

I didn't have much to say to anybody but kept to myself and my books. With my eyes closed, I would touch a familiar book and draw it's fragrance deep inside me. This was enough to make me happy.

With my eyes closed, I would touch a familiar book and draw its fragrance deep inside me. This was enough to make me happy.

In the deepening spring of May, I had no choice but to recognize the trembling of my heart. It usually happened as the sun was going down. In the pale evening gloom, when the soft fragrance of magnolias hung in the air, my heart would swell without warning, and tremble, and lurch with a stab of pain. I would try clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, and wait for it to pass. And it would pass –but slowly, taking its own time, and leaving a dull ache behind.

The heavy smell of flower petals stroked the walls of my lungs.

Wrapped in the deep fragrance of the forest, I listen to the flapping of the birds' wings, to the stirring of the ferns. I'm freed from gravity and float up--just a little--from the ground and drift in the air. Of course I can't stay there forever. It's just a momentary sensation--open my eyes and it's gone. Still, it's an overwhelming experience. Being able to float in the air.

Being alive, if you had to define it, meant emitting a variety of smells