Quotes About Fragrance

I smell of decay, the acrid smell of a lonely person, a person with no respect or regard for themselves.

shampoos. Whenever

Slowly, the fire rolled down to her hands, and was this jittery flame and she was holding it. She was holding it in her hands, cupped together. It looked like what love must look like, just barely there, so easy to extinguish.

Daniel, if she were blind and deaf, would be the sickly sweet smell of artificial strawberries and singed dough.

The last thing she remembered before finally drifting off was how nice Steffi's hair smelled.

Our actions make the fragrance of our lives...Would you smell of plums? Or Vinegar?

Ai ch?a t?ng ???c xúc ??ng v?i h?i th? nhè nh? c?a thi?u n? trong gi?c ng?, ng??i ?ó ch?a th? hi?u th? nào là d?u dàng. Môi nàng t??i h?n c? nh?ng cánh hoa ?m ??t và ?ôi hàng mi nàng l?p lánh nh?ng gi?t l? ?êm.

I don't like to thank God: I like to wake in the morning, look at the sea and thank the wind, the waves, the sky, the fragrance of plants, the life that allows me to exist, the sun that rises.

I like pouring your tea, lifting the heavy pot, and tipping it up, so the fragrant liquid steams in your china cup. Or when you're away or at work, I like to think of your cupped hands as you sip, as you sip, of the faint half-smile of your lips.

pizza-scented candles.

the sleeves of my chocolate-scented T-shirt.

Everything new and beautiful seems to arrive already haunted by its own demise.

Dylan wasn't calling to ask me on a date. He was calling because this cologne company had contacted him to see if he would endorse a cologne called Just Like a Woman. Now Bob didn't like that name, but he liked the idea of endorsing a cologne. And he wanted to know if I had any good cologne names. Do

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,A box where sweets compacted lie.

The air smelled of paper and dust and years.

Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones.

Yes, all Lannisters are lions, and when a Tyrell breaks wind it smells just like a rose.

In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume. Now it was perfume that clung to him like perfume,

the faint smell of corruption clung to it like a woman's perfume.

She even smells like sin, like some exotic lotus.

The air smelled of salt and frying fish, of hot tar and honey, of incense and oil and sperm.

Roses dropped petals that seemed as big and smooth as saucers, flame red, moon and white, glossy, and unwrinkled.

I would awake early, breakfast hurriedly under the tangerine trees already fragrant with the warmth of the early sun

fed under the orange and lemon trees