Quotes About Scent

She smelled faintly of wildflowers. But beneath that she smelled like autumn leaves. Like the dark smell of her own hair, like road dust and the air before a summer storm.

Olí a pelo quemado y confié en no haber perdido las cejas. No quería pasarme un mes con expresión de sorpresa.

but when I moved to kiss her she pushed me to arm´s length, snorting as if to clear her nose. She told me I reeked of iron and sent me into the forest telling me not to return until I got the bitter stink of it from my face

She smelled like road dust, and honey, and the smell the air holds seconds before a heavy summer rain.

He would be able to create a scent that was not merely human, but super human, an angels scent, so indescribably good and vital that who ever smelt it would be enchanted and with his whole heart would have to love him.

And even knowing that to possess that scent he must pay the terrible price of losing it again, the very possession and the loss seemed to him more desirable than a prosaic renunciation of both. For he had renounced things all his life. But never once had he possessed and lost.

And the awful thing was that Grenouille, although he knew that this odour was his odour, could not smell it. Virtually drowning in himself, he could not for the life of him smell himself!

He had soon so thoroughly smelled out the quarter between Saint-Eustache and the Hôtel de Ville that he could find his way around in it by pitch-dark night. And so he expanded his hunting grounds, first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille, and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived.

So spoke Grenouille the Great and, while the peasantry of scent danced and celebrated beneath him, he glided with wide-stretched wings down from his golden clouds, across the nocturnal fields of his soul, and home to his heart.

What he coveted was the odor of certain human beings: that is, those rare humans who inspire love. These were his victims.

El olor de mar le gustaba tanto, que deseaba respirarlo puro algún día y en grandes cantidades, a fin de embriagarse de él.

Aveva un odore semplice, il mare, ma nello stesso tempo così vasto e unico nel suo genere, che Grenouille esitava a suddividerlo in odore di pesce, di sale, di acqua, di alga, di fresco e così via. Preferiva lasciare intatto l'odore del mare, lo custodiva intero nella memoria e lo godeva indiviso. L'odore del mare gli piaceva tanto che avrebbe desiderato una volta averlo puro, non mescolato e in quantità tale da potersene ubriacare.

He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula.

No podía oler la falta de olor del niño y no esperaba ninguna emoción de él porque su propia alma estaba sellada.

Odours have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions or will. The persuasive power of an dour cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.

Exist? o for?? de convingere a miresmei, mai puternic? decât aceea a cuvântului, privirii, simÅ£irii ÅŸi voinÅ£ei. Ea nu poate fi respins?, ne p?trunde-n pl?mâni ca aerul respirat, se revars? în noi, ne umple întru totul, nu exist? împotriva sa niciun mijloc.

Odours have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions or will. The persuasive power of an odour cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.

How Miserable this God smelled! How ridiculously bad the scent that this God let spill from Him. It was not even genuine frankincense fuming out of those thuribles. A bad substitute, adulterated with linden and cinnamon dust and saltpeter. God stank. God was a poor little stinker. He had been swindled, this God had, or was Himself a swindler, no different from Grenouille-only a considerably worse one!

All these grotesque incongruities between the richness of the world perceivable by smell and the poverty of language were enough for the lad Grenouille to doubt that language made any sense at all;

No era él quien perseguia la fragancia, sino la fragancia la que le había hecho prisionero y ahora le atraía irrevocablemente hacia sí.

The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth, its maturity, and its old age. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life, can it be called successful

Unlike flowers, the animals he tried to macerate would not yield up their scent without complaints or with a mute sigh — they fought desperately against death…and in their fear of death created large quantities of sweat whose acidity ruined the warm oil… The objects would have to be quieted down, and so suddenly that they would have no time to become afraid or to resist. He would have to kill them.

Des Menschen Duft an und für sich war ihm auch gleichgültich. Des Menschen Duft konnte er hinreichend gut mit Surrogaten imitieren. Was er begehrte, war der Duft gewisser Menschen: jener äußerst seltenen Menschen nämlich, die Liebe inspirieren. Diese waren seine Opfer.

When it came to arrogance, misanthropy, immortality, or, more succinctly, wickedness but because of his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to the domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent