Quotes About Smell

To be nothing - is that not, after all, the most satisfactory fact in the whole world?' asks a dog in a novel I read once (Virginia Woolf Flush 87). I wonder what the smell of nothing is. Smell of autopsy.

You've been drinking," she said shortly, and then added qualitatively, "a little. You know I loathe the smell of it.

What had seemed a melancholy happening, now seemed a tiresome anticlimax. HE was dressed at half past, so he sat down by the window; felt that the sinews of his heart were twisted somewhat more than he had thought. What an ironic mockery the morning seemed! -- bright and sunny, and full of the smell of the garden...

You know, it's funny what you'll miss when you're away from home. Now me, I miss the smell of coffee Ã¢â'¬Â¦ and bacon frying in the morning.

I can smell the sin on your breath.

I am very grateful to the electronic world for making my life easier, but there is something about holding a book - the smell and the world of association. Even when e-books are perfected, as they surely will be, it will be like being in bed with a very well-made robot rather than a warm, soft, human being whom you love.

My wife used to tell me one of my best qualities was that my feet don't smell, but I remember my brother's did when we were kids.

My favorite animal to hunt is probably elk. There's nothing like the sound of a bugling bull splitting the cold air at first light. And that smell is unmistakable. Once you experience their musk in the wild there's no going back! A close second would be a varmint hunt.

I mention this fact as tending to support what I have often heard stated, namely, that a shark's sense of smell is so keen that, if men ever bathe in seas where they are found, a shark is almost sure to appear directly afterwards.

There is a smell that lung sickness gives people. It's the smell of blood and congestion and fever. It's the smell of blood mixed with air that hangs over a bed and fills a sickroom. It's the smell of old blood, and blood that is fresh and already old. It's the smell of a festering wound.

He smelt of English sweat and English beer, and it was a good cure for dead faces.

Su lengua entró hasta la garganta Olía a cigarrillos y a comida cara. Yo olía a cigarrillos y a comida pobre, pero las dos comidas eran buenas.

Then as now he created reality around himself, bringing order and peace to a small island of warm firelight and the simple smell of hearth bread cooking.

It is a sense you do not possess, and hence I cannot explain it to you," she added condescendingly. "Imagine trying to explain a sense of smell to someone who had none. What sounds like an arbitrary, almost mystic ability is no different from smelling apple blossoms in the dark.

The still air smelled of sweetgrass hanging from the rafters. What words can capture that smell? The fragrance of your mother's newly washed hair as she holds you close, the melancholy smell of summer slipping into fall, the smell of memory that makes you close your eyes for a moment, and then a moment longer.

You could smell ripe strawberries before you saw them, the fragrance mingling with the smell of sun on damp ground. It was the smell of June, the last day of school, when we were set free, and the Strawberry Moon, ode'mini-giizis.

She hated the smell of cigarette smoke

I couldn't leave there  without carrying some of her sadness and loneliness with me like a cloak. There was a smell that I've come to think of as life rot. Where a life has spoiled, gone bad through lack of use.

Are you sure this isn't instant boots? asked Cordelia sadly, for in color, taste, and smell they closely resembled pulverized shoe leather pressed into wafers.

His fish smells fishier than the others- he is sure of it. Perhaps he has been poisoned.

Soldiers planted like vegetables waiting for the day of harvest. … everything is more intense at night, perfectly beautiful, and when the wind shifts and the reek of rotting meat vanishes for a few blessed minutes you can smell the sweet scent of the countryside.

I'd know that odor anywhere! The smell of graves opened! Old graves! Of bodies long dead!" Pausing

How many onions do you think we've eaten?" he asked. Zero shrugged. "I don't even know how long we've been here." "I'd say about a week," said Stanley. "And we probably each eat about twenty onions a day, so that's…" "Two hundred and eighty onions," said Zero. Stanley smiled. "I bet we really stink.

bad case of foot odor.