Quotes About Smell

It's never going to be hipster because you've got that smell that the sea gives out twice a day. That's why Margate will never be gentrified. However, there is art-led regeneration.

I don't wear a lot of perfumey-perfumes because I think a lot of them smell like you're wearing perfume. And I don't want to smell like that.

I loved the fresh alkaline tang of new ink and paper, a smell that never emanated from a broken-in library book. I loved the crack of a newly flexed spine, and the way the brand-new pages almost felt damp, as if they were wet with creation.

The smell of blood... it was on his breath. What does he do? I think. Drink it? I imagine him sipping it from a teacup. Dipping a cookie into the stuff and pulling it out dripping red.

baker's, the smell of fresh bread was so overwhelming

The smell of blood . . . it was on his breath.

Rhythm, that's an essential part of cooking. The sound of a lovely song and the smell of some dish in the oven are equally evocative.

The smell of a perm is this special kind of Chernobyl-grave soup smell.

For all the way he loved her. Every song had her memory, every rain had her smell, and every girl had her face.

I smell fear, he said with a quiet intensity. But not nearly enough.

the first place smelled like work, so I took the second

People always talked about the good clean smell of fresh sweat. They had to make excuses for it. They never talked about the good clean smell of fresh shit. There was nothing really as glorious as a good beer shit - I mean after drinking twenty or twenty-five beers the night before. The odor of a beer shit like that spread all around and stayed for a good hour-and-a-half. It made you realize that you were really alive.

It was a brisk, polite town. It did not know shit about shit, and did not care to know. Norman Bowker leaned back and considered what he might've said on the subject. He knew shit. It was his specialty. The smell, in particular, but also the numerous varieties of texture and taste. Someday he'd give a lecture on the topic. Put on a suit and tie and stand up in front of the Kiwanis club and tell the fuckers about all the wonderful shit he knew. Pass out samples, maybe.

He walked into the house, smelling baked cookies. Now if that didn't make a house a home, nothing would. Mmm! he said loudly to announce his presence. Something smells good! Cricket poked her head out of the kitchen. Come poach a cookie or two. Yes, ma'am. He strolled into the kitchen and was pleased to see Suzy dressed in a pretty pink apron with red hearts on it. Hello, Priscilla, he said. Hi, Suzy.

New Orleans has a mythology, a personality, a soul, that is large, and that has touched people around the world. It has its own music (many of its own musics), its own cuisine, its own way of talking, its own architecture, its own smell, its own look and feel.

I rather like the smell of absurdity in the morning.

I love hot hand of explosion. I love a breeze perfumed with the devil smell of powder.

Then summer came. A summer limp with the weight of blossomed things. Heavy sunflowers weeping over fences; iris curling and browning at the edges far away from their purple hearts; ears of corn letting their auburn hair wind down to their stalks. AND THE BOYS. The beautiful, beautiful boys who dotted the landscape like jewels, split the air with their shouts in the field, and thickened the river with their shining wet backs. EVEN THEIR FOOTSTEPS LEFT A SMELL OF SMOKE BEHIND!

They smelled death and it revolted them and shot the bile high in the throat.

AS PROOF of the evolutionary importance of smell, 1 to 2% of our genes are involved in olfaction, approximately the same percent that is involved in the immune system.

I mean it. Stop laughin'. How'm I gonna be able to surprise anybody with skunk smell all over me? It'll probably never come out of my leather vest or my hat. Dumb animal just ruined my chance of sneak—" He broke off, clamping his jaw tight.

The smell of poison and death clings to any stranger, and people have become allergic to outsiders without realizing it.

And stop whispering into my hair. You might chip a tooth, I've got so much crap sprayed in there." "I know," he whispered, sending a shiver down her side. "You smell like ethanol. I can feel my brain cells dying.

Great public speakers know this and build presentations around one of the senses predominantly, but they incorporate at least one or two others: sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste. Smell and taste are harder to incorporate