Quotes About Scent

The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem.

I feel like one of those cartoon characters helplessly following the scent of something yummy when I'm near him.

A scent, a sound, an errant shadow too minor to register consciously might be enough to make a well-trained scythe's neck hairs bristle.

Or poking through a house, in closets shut for years, Full of the scent of time - acrid, musky, dank, One comes, perhaps, upon a flask of memories In whose escaping scent a soul returns to life. - The Flask

The time of the year has come when on warm summer days Each flower spreads its scent like a censer of gold The sounds and fragrances in harmony enfold The melancholic languor of the evening haze

But she couldn't dismiss easily his light touch with her. No pushing or pressing, none of that herding and corralling bullshit, unlike any of her old boyfriends. And maybe who you fell for and who you eventually loved wasn't rational, no matter how hard you tried to list pros and cons and sum the results. You couldn't think your way through it, not all the way. Maybe just the scent of somebody carried more weight than everything else put together.

I use only men's perfumes. I change my perfumes every month.

I love perfumes. Every morning when my girlfriend and I come down to the courtyard in our block of flats we're assailed by the most delicious scent - jasmine round a doorway. It almost makes me swoon.

I've always loved the scent of rose; it's just the most beautiful scent. If you open my bathroom cupboard, everything is rose scented.

What did Grayson's room smell of this evening?" I asked through the mailbox slit. "The bottle of cologne that Grayson dropped on the rug, which is probably going to smell like his grandfather forever now," replied Henry on the other side of the door." I bet he dreams of him tonight." I opened the door. Henry had propped one hand against the frame and was grinning at me.

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

When the rain came it came first as the scent of rain, the grey air stained darker behind the hills. Then when it came down to us it was like thread and needles, piercing the jellyish water with a trillion tiny pricks, the silver threads attaching water to sky. And there too was the sound of rain, drumming gently upon the canvas cover where it was stretched taut at the back of the boat. It was so warm.

S]omeone else is breathing in here besides me, and I don't think Tim the cowman dabs . . . lily of the valley, is it . . . behind his ears. Although he should.

pizza-scented candles.

you're still talking and fuck, it's hard to listen when I can smell your body wash.

I swear his pheromones have my freaking name written on them. They hone in and attack.

When you smell our candles burning, what does it make you think of, my child?" Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit. I smell hot bread baking. I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf. I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me. "I don't smell anything," she said.

Catelyn had never liked this godswood. She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.

Is that gallantry I smell, or just stupidity? The two scents are much alike, as I recall.

In the closeness of the passage, the queen could smell the other woman's perfume, a musky scent that spoke of moss and earth and wildflowers. Under it, she smelled ambition.

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 scent of blood or the scent of gold, they smell the same in the end.

The day was grey and bitter cold, and the dogs would not take the scent.

His other discovery, divine and scientific, was that ants hate the scent of humans. If you trace a circle around an ant with your finger, it will run up against that invisible border as if you had built a wall.