Quotes About Smell

If you cut a thing up, of course it will smell. Hence, nothing raises such an infernal stink, at last, as human psychology.

Too much bother,' said Zilla languidly. 'I let it once to some friends of the Carews who wanted it for the shooting; the dogs slept on the beds and chairs and the sofa in the sitting-room—shooting dogs, Kit! The whole place smelt of animals. You haven't got animals, have you?' 'No,' I said, laughing. 'Only three children; they're quite enough for one woman to look after.

In humans, smell is often viewed as an aesthetic sense, as a sense capable of eliciting enduring thoughts and memories. Smell, however, is the primal sense. It is the sense that affords most organisms the ability to detect food, predators, and mates.

This is the smell of June , she wanted to write to Christopher... honeysuckle, green hay, wet linen hung out to dry ...

It rained in Hampshire yesterday, a soft autumn storm that brought down hardly any leaves. The dahlias are no longer in stem, and frost has withered the chrysanthemums, but the air smells divine, like old leaves and wet bark, and ripe apples. Have you ever noticed that each month has its own smell? May and October are the nicest-smelling months, in my opinion.

You smell like a train." "With an extended smokestack," he rejoined, following at her heels. Annabelle snorted derisively. "If you're trying to be amusing, don't bother. I'm furious with you.

When she breathed in the sage and dust and tang of orange peel, it smelled to her like deliverance.

The smell of oak and barbecue permeate the air around the small house. Delfina uses oak for her barbecue and Mom (and me) always used hickory. People said that you could tell where North Star was solely based on the competing smells that met in the air just above the town. That little weevil of an idea pops back up. Our plot of land. It's still there.

The room smelled of stale leather and genteel decay, like an old woman waiting patiently for the lover who had jilted her to return after sixty years.

An inferior sense of smell, Marcus said, as if absolutely nothing of significance had happened, is distinct from being told that one smells unpleasant.

Good Lord, I'm regretting this now, I muttered. I have never - ever - smelled BO this bad in my life . And I once had s'mores wit a Sasquatch. Hang out with him for awhile, Mort gasped. Eventually it's not so bad. Wow. Really? No. Not really.

I've got blisters and muscle cramps in places not meant for the touch of anything but a beautiful woman, Max spat back sullenly. I've bitten my tongue so many times in the past three days that I whistle in musical chords when I exhale. And the smell isn't ever going to come out of my armor, I just know it.

bright, flowery plants... were busy committing the olfactory equivalent of aggravated assault.

He leant back to stare heavenwards, gently fingering the swollen skin around his black eye. But the river stank. Reduced by the heat like a good soup, it was sixty per cent ducks' piss with a hint of incontinent rat.

I have lived here before the days of ice, of course this is why I am so concerned, and I come back to find the stars misplaced and the smell of a world that has burned. So where do I purchase my ticket…I'd like to have a ringside seat. I want to know about the new Mother Earth. I want to hear and see EVERYTHING.

When we found that person in the freezer, it done freaked me out. I ain't thinking straight. I shoulda gone ahead and cleaned the refrigerator right then and there. That meat'll smell something fierce if I don't get

I can smell her perfume, something flowery, too strong in this enclosed darkness. I wonder if this is temptation. If so, I am stone.

My sense of smell seemed preternaturally enhanced, so that I could almost taste every dish- the fish grilled in the ashes of the brazier, the roasted goat's cheese, the dark pancakes and the light, the hot chocolate cake, the confit de canard and the spiced merguez...

3 reasons why I hate being sick: 1. I can't smell anything 2. I can't taste anything 3. I have to keep blowing my nose!

Come" meant praise and petting and a treat, so pretty soon I always showed up for it. But my favorite words from him were "Good dog!" "Good dog!" always meant he would pet me, rubbing my fur until I wriggled from my toes to my tail with happiness. His hands smelled of oil and his truck and of papers and other people.

Maya made her own dinner, which smelled pretty good. Stella seemed to think so, too, because she jumped right up on the table and waltzed around, like a bad cat! I couldn't believe her lack of manners. Maya didn't even scold her. I suppose Maya thought cats weren't even worth training. After spending the afternoon with these three, I pretty much agreed with her.

Most of these people smelled of something unusual, something I had never smelled before. I could not decide if I liked it or not. It was not a smell of the outside world that I was used to. Really, all that it smelled of was clean. Who would want to be clean when dirty smells were so much more interesting?

I smell blood and an era of prominent madmen.

Most people enjoy the sight of their own handwriting as they enjoy the smell of their own farts.