Quotes About Smell

It's fall coming, I thought, I can smell that sour-molasses smell of silage, clanging the air like a bell – smell like somebody's been burning oak leaves, left them to smolder overnight because they're too green.

I did not pray Him to lay bare The mystery to me, Enough the rose was Heaven to smell, And His own face to see.

You can never have a relationship with someone whose smell you don't like.

A very ancient and fish-like smell.

The smell of blood. The smell of sweat. The smell of tears. The smell of Algipan. You want to smell these smells for the rest of your life.

In the lobby, an old woman with legs wrapped in elastic bandages mopped the floor with filthy water. She kept missing the same spot, over and over. There was the overpowering smell of disinfectant, bad tobacco, and wet wool. This was the smell of Russia indoors, the smell of the woman in front of you on line, the smell of every elevator. Near an abandoned newsstand, dozens of overcoats hung on long rows of pegs, somber and dark, lightly steaming, like nags in a stable.

Unfortunately for Ben and Granny, it turns out that ancient poo does still pong.)

A huge gust of cabbage blasted in Ben's face. It was like a great big slap of smell.

What's that smell?" Reynolds asked. That smell is the stuff they grow mushrooms in." DeForrest sniffed the air. "Shit?" he asked. Captain Suzie shrugged. "Manure.

I closed my eyes and let out a breath that smelled like I'd eaten an entire wet dog and washed it down with sweat wrung from a hobo's undershirt.

I'm not," Stoker put in. "No parson would dare be that sanctimonious. I can smell the stink of our eldest brother all over that particular remark

You disgust me, all of you, with your happiness! With your life that must be loved at all costs. […] I spit on your idea of life! […] You are all like dogs that lick everything they smell! […] I do not want to understand. I am here for something other than understanding. I am here to tell you no, and to die. To tell you no and to die.

The action films I will make in the future will be more believable and character-based. I am now on my second cycle of fame, and I want to make films that smell real and are truthful.

We humans will never know how meadows or mountains smell, but deer and horses and pigs do. Bando sniffs deeply and shakes his head. We were left out when it comes to smelling things, he says. I would love to be able to smell a mountain and follow my nose to it.

The atmosphere of the night, the smell rising from the blocked latrines, overflowing with shit and yellow water, stir childhood memories which rise up like a black soil mined by moles.

First time I've picked weeds in almost a year. Definitely missed it. I love the smell of dirt and plant revealing their hidden nature.

Rain usually makes me feel mellow. Curl up in the corner time, slow down, smell the furniture. Today it just makes me feel wet.

the man next to Rush shouted a "Bravo!" that smelled of garlic.

Surely the colour of London was an exquisite thing. It was like a pearl that late afternoon, something very gentle and pale, with faint blue shadows. And as for its smell, she doubted, indeed, whether heaven itself could smell better, certainly not so interesting. And anyhow, she said to herself, lifting her head a moment in appreciation, it can't possibly smell more alive .

Tonight I can smell the season the way it's usually only possible to at the very first moments of its return, before you're used to it, when you've forgotten its smell, then there it is back in the air and the flow of things shifting and resettling again.

YOU MUST NEVER SLEEP UNDER A MAGNOLIA when the tree begins to flower like a glimpse of Flesh when the flower begins to smell as if its roots have reached the layer of Thirst upon the unsealed jar of Joy Alice, you should never sleep under so much pure pale so many shriek-mouthed blooms as if Patience had run out of Patience

The troops were so close at hand I could smell pate from the goose step.

Oh, is that what I smell?" Mrs. McHenry said with a shudder. (For the record, our school smells just fine, unless of course your smelling ability has been irreparably damaged by a lifetime of sniffing perfume samples.)

There was something about the smell of bookshops that was strangely comforting to her. She wondered if it was the scent of ink and paper or the perfume of binding, string, and glue. Maybe it was the scent of knowledge. Information. Thoughts and ideas. Poetry and love. All of it bound into one perfect, calm place.