Quotes About Scent

I once read that during the Civil War women of the south would soak these cloth buttons in perfume and then sew them into the collars of their men's shirts. That way the scent was a constant reminder of their loved ones waiting for them at home.

Mercy, but he smelled good. All piney and musky and manly. There should be a law.

He reached forward then took me in his arms, held me close for a moment, the breath of snow and ashes cold around us. Then he kissed me, released me, and I took a deep breath of cold air, harsh with the scent of burning.

He reached forward then and took me in his arms, held me close for a moment, the breath of snow and ashes cold around us. Then he kissed me, released me, and I took a deep breath of cold air, harsh with the scent of burning.

His heart was beating faster. Everett's perfume was his accustomed musk and myrrh; the scent of it conjured tumbled linens, and the touch of hard and knowing hands.

Yes, there it was, the reek of a man, strong and sour as the smell of a rutting goat.

To the taste of breasts like apricots, the warm scent of a woman's navel when she wakens in the winter, the warmth of a mound that fills your hand like a peach, split with ripeness.

the fragrant bunches of nettle and dried lavender overhead, dusty gold

She smelled of cinnamon and honey and the clean sweat of exertion, with an undertone of baby-scent, that paradoxical smell composed of spit-up milk, soft feces, and the ultimate cleanliness of fresh, smooth skin.

I don't actually like dogs smelling of anything other than natural dogs.

When the olfactory alphabet, which made them so many words in a precious lexicon, is forgotten, perfumes will be left speechless, inarticulate, illegible.

With the smell of beer I try to get the smell of death off me. And only the smell of death will get the smell of beer off you, like all the drinkers whose graves I have to dig.

If I could, I'd dave whiffs of beautiful nights in a little pouch on my chest, the way the indians keep the scents of the prairie.

Melankoli adeta kimyasalm??. Havada as?l?ym??. Sabahlar? kokusunu duyabilirmi?sin.

Before dawn, the air smelled of lemons.

Nobody ever died from wearing Mitsouko, but lots of babies were born as a result of it.

I would come to learn that the alpha female can read every single bit of food you put into your body. Make a choice that'a going to keep you strong and fit for the pack and you will pass muster; make a choice that's the equivalent of chocolate cake in the human world and you'll wind up urinating in streams to disguise your scent, or else suffer the consequences.

when you held one of those volumes in your hands you were leafing through another person's life. Someone else had once loved that story, too. Someone else had carried that book in a backpack, devoured it over breakfast, mopped up that coffee stain at a Paris café, cried herself to sleep after the last chapter. The scent of their store was distinctive: a slight damp mildew, a pinch of dust. To me, it was the smell of history.

She breathed deeply of the scent of decaying fiction, disintegrating history, and forgotten verse, and she observed for the first time that a room full of books smelled like dessert: a sweet snack made of figs, vanilla, glue, and cleverness.

A fragrance of cold rose petals and copper. Like flowers in your bloody throat.

Tommy sniffed the spring breeze like a supercilious stag.

Smell is the sense of memory and desire.

How I long to hold your face like a bouquet and inhale the mysterious scent of your dreams when the summer grass is green as a dye.

How indescribable the scent of autumn flowers was– barely a scent at all, really; just a faint, strange smell, pleasant but sad. Could a smell be sad or was it just the association with the dying summer?