Quotes About Smell

It's the smell of life, Mother." Emily drew deep. "Gasoline, horses, the sweat of men, the perfume of women.

bad breath and butt smell; that is prison, in a nutshell.

Unlike the rest he had seen of the bungalow, the hall beyond the door was dark. He could see the glimmer of three doors and several framed photographs lined up along the walls. The sound of flies was louder, though they didn't seem to be in the hall itself. Now that he was closer they sounded even more like someone groaning feebly, and the rotten smell was stronger too.

The coffee shop smell was strong enough to build a garage on.

I smelled of gin. Not just casually, as if I had taken four or five drinks of a winter morning to get out of bed on, but as if the Pacific Ocean was pure gin and I had nosedived off the boat deck. The gin was in my hair and eyebrows, on my chin and under my chin. It was on my shirt. I smelled like dead toads.

Ohls showed the motor-cycle officer his badge and we went out on the pier, into a loud fish smell which one night's hard rain hadn't even dented.

The coffee shop smell was strong enough to build a garage on. I went back to my desk, dropped the bottle of whiskey back into the drawer, shut the drawer and sat down again.

He had a sort of dry musty smell, like a fairly clean Chinaman.

His office had the musty smell of years of routine.

Sidda can't help herself, She just loves books. Loves the way they feel, the way they smell, loves those black letters marching across the white pages.

Oh, Frith help me!" said Fiver, trembling. "I can smell him from here. He terrifies me." "Oh, Fiver, don't be absurd! He just smells the same as the rest of them." "He smells like barley rained down and left to rot in the fields. He smells like a wounded mole that can't get underground." "He smells like a big, fat rabbit to me, with a lot of carrots inside. But I'll come with you.

Oh, Fairy Wogdog!' cried Rowsby Woof, dribbling and piddling all over the gravel. 'Ah, what elegance! What aristocratic distinction! Can that really be decayed cat that I smell? With a delicate overtone of rotten camel! Ah, the gorgeous East!

There was something dead in my heart. I tried to figure out what it was by the strength of the smell. I knew that it was not a lion or a sheep or a dog. Using logical deduction, I came to the conclusion that it was a mouse. I had a dead mouse in my heart.

Everything smelled of sheep. The dandelions were suddenly more sheep than flower, each petal reflecting wool and the sound of a bell ringing off the yellow. But the thing that smelled the most like sheep, was the very sun itself. When the sun went behind a cloud, the smell of the sheep decreased, like standing on some old guy's hearing aid, and when the sun came back again, the smell of the sheep was loud, like a clap of thunder inside a coffee cup. (from On Paradise, page 50)

What is the colour of abstraction? What is the smell of hope?

He had the sourdough smell of age. His chest sagged into shrivelled teats; his lovemaking was unreliable, yet she found it strangely wholesome in a way that defied sense.

In trying to escape the fatality of memory, he discovered with an immense sadness that pursuing the past inevitably only leads to greater loss. To hold a gesture, a smell, a smile was to cast it as one fixed thing, a plaster death mask, which as soon as it was touched crumbled in his figures back into dust.

And I am in the crowd just as the drums are passing - always the last in line - their boom-boom-booming in my ears, and all around. I see the sun above the street, breathe in the day's rich, warm smell. Someone calls out, Clear a path, make room, make room please! The trumpets go again. My heartbeat quickens. I feel the push, the pull, the weave and sway of others.

You got your cheese, I hope? You won't mind a word of advice? Eat it. Don't put it in a plastic bag in the fridge and save it for visitors; before you know where you are it'll have swollen to three times its size and smell like a chemical factory. You'll open the bag and be putting your face into a bad marriage.

My father laughed. The magic of Summer, he said, is unlike anything else. Imagine life, fertility, laughter, joy, ripening fruits and the smell of fresh bread baking in the morning. That is Summer magic. Forever Frost (Frost Series 2)

The vibrations from deep in the planet had vanished for the time being, and the smell of chargrilled dog had been overwhelmed by shattered bowels and pulverized concrete.

The smell of fresh air made Kate's eyes sting. She looked up. The pole lights were on. The sun was sinking like a stone. Maggie asked, "Where's your car parked?

Will had underestimated the man's doucheness. Faith could smell it coming off him like damp in a basement.

Not realizing until exactly 3:12 this morning, that the reason toy box smelled like rotten fruit roll ups is because Emma was hiding all her fruit roll ups in the bottom. Toddler are such fucking assholes.