Quotes About Smell

There are some things that don't change much. I find the smell of a dish, or the way a certain spice is crushed, or just a quick look at the way something has been put on a plate, can pull me back to another place and time. I love those memories that seem so far away, yet you can hold them and carry them with you, even forget them, and then, with a single taste or hint or a smell, be chaperoned back to a beautiful moment.

The sense of smell can be extraordinarily evocative, bringing back pictures as sharp as photographs of scenes that had left the conscious mind.

I had a break from 8:26 to 9:13. I sat and breathed and thought of the way some people walk dogs. Some yank the leash to make the dog heel, and some let the dog smell the smells.

From her hiding place in the brush, a young girl watched, her eyes wide with curiosity. There was a burning smell coming from the pit where flames crackled, sending sparks shooting high. Odd shapes had been carved in the trunks of the circling trees. The

apron she wore was covered with flour. Jason smelled

It's a fucking Fiero, dude. It's twenty years old. It has 150,000 miles on it, which is practically what it takes to get to the moon. I'm going to bet if I open this thing up, it's going to smell like stale Drakkar Noir and chemical pine scent. There is probably a dead rat in the trunk. Maybe a whole nest of dead rats and rat babies. She finishes her drawing. (Spoiler alert: it's a penis.) You should really be paying me to take this burden of Detroit steel off your hands.

And oh, could he smell them. It wasn't just the stench of body sweat. It was the rancid odor of human meat. With every breath they gave it off. Blood under their tongue. Long pork between their teeth. Eau de cannibal.

Soon the smoke will drift over the river, and with it, the shepherds' first exposure to that smell: a smell like sick pork cooked slow, a smell that some would describe as having a taste, too, one that lingered in the back of the nose, at the base of the tongue, a taste not unlike licking a very old library book.

I don't want to see another church; the smell of the places makes me sick. Stale incense, old sweat, and lies... In the Hills, the Cities

The almanac had a strange, soapy smell and made a cracking noise like fire as she turned the pages. She'd never been the first person to open a book.

Adoraba sumergirse entre sus páginas amarillentas, aspirar el olor a libro viejo y dejarse llevar por el poder de las palabras. Los libros la transportaban a mundos mágicos, lejanos, infinitos, repletos de aventuras y emociones.

She asked only that life be tangible, full of things to touch and hold, smell and devour. Soft fabrics, new books, full-bodied wines, well-made dresses, defined calves.

To someone who grows up by the stockyards, that smell just smells like air. You don't know what a younger person might someday think of you, and whatever stench we still breathe in without noticing.

You're only hurting yourself. Besides, the citizens like blood, don't they? They smell it.

One sailor telling another that his beard smelled of smoke was tantamount to provoking a fight.

breathing in the peculiar smell of the library: a mix of dust and leather and melted vanilla ice cream. Warm, like the scent of someone's skin.

Her clearest memory of her father was a feel and a smell: the bristle of his cheek against hers as he lifted her up, and the tingle of Old Spice in her nostrils.

It makes everyone nervous, smelling," he says re the vial, "because smell is such a strong sense.

There is probably a smell of roasted chestnuts and other good comfortable things all the time, for we are telling Winter Stories - Ghost Stories, or more shame for us - round the Christmas fire; and we have never stirred, except to draw a little nearer to it.

Mr. Wegg sits down on a box in front of the fire, and inhales a warm and comfortable smell which is not the smell of the shop. 'For that,' Mr. Wegg inwardly decides, as he takes a corrective sniff or two, 'is musty, leathery, feathery, cellary, gluey, gummy, and,' with another sniff, 'as it might be, strong of old pairs of bellows.

IDEALIST. One who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make better soup.

Fish should smell like the tide. Once they smell like fish, it's too late.

I love the sweet aroma of dawn— our daily opportunity to smell untouched time, to breathe in fresh hope... each morning being, a new beginning.

Come, follow me by the smell, Here are delicate onions to sell, I promise to use you well. They make the blood warmer; You'll feed like a farmer: For this is every cook's opinion, No savoury dish without an onion; But, lest your kissing should be spoil'd, Your onions must be thoroughly boil'd: Or else you may spare Your mistress a share, The secret will never be known; She cannot discover The breath of her lover, But think it as sweet as her own.