Quotes About Smell

Le problème, c'est que ces horreurs puent la vérité.

Females make better cooks than men. Females have a better palate. They have a better sense of smell. They never take shortcuts; this is why they're very good in kitchens. The weakness in what they do is they are not as physically strong as men, so they're never really given the opportunity.

I actually don't wear fragrance. I always feel like I smell cheap. I guess I just haven't found one that's not overpowering or too sweet. Even when I try one of the super masculine scents, I just think, 'I don't want to smell like a man.' Besides, I like my own scent.

I took the longest showers of my life after every time I visited Gramacho. It affects the personality of the catadores. They always dress really well, they're very sharp, and when they go out they always wear a lot of perfume because they're very conscious of the possibility of having the smell.

I like fresh and clean. I don't ever want anyone to smell me and say, 'Oh that guy is wearing a lot of cologne.' I want people to smell me and say, 'You smell really good!' I think there is a difference.

There's been a fragmentation of how the market functions, but I believe printed books are here to stay. People like the tactile experience, the smell of them; there's a great romance to them.

The smell that hits me is almost overwhelming. Familiar and alien at the same time. Hellion food tastes like what a butcher shop throws in the trash and then a hobo sleeps on it for a couple of days.

the nose. It can be a nuisance in winter and such a blessing before a meal.

It smells good in here", Ostin said. "It's garlic the woman said, smiling. "Garlic always smells good. Except on your breath.

A European visitor in the 1880s remarked that the only sense not offended by American cooking was hearing.

Adrian: Do you smell that?" Sydney: "I smell the paint, and . . . wait . . . is that pine?" Adrian: "Damn straight. Pine-scented cleaner. As in, I cleaned. With these hands, these hands that don't do manual labor.

I didn't like Martians. I did not fancy having a thing that looks like a tree trunk topped off by a sun helmet claiming the privileges of a man. I did not like the way they grew pseudo limbs; it reminded me of snakes crawling out of their holes. I did not like the fact that they could look all directions at once without turning their heads—if they had had heads, which of course they don't. And I could not stand their smell!

Everyone froze. In real time the whole sequence had probably taken ten seconds. In the slow motion of crisis time it had unreeled in ponderous elegance, and the crystalline immobility that followed was intensified by the lingering smell of gunfire, like an olfactory echo of the big bang.

Nothing smelled worse than the death of another human being. Not horses or cattle or rotten whales washed onto a beach. Human death was the smell of what hid in the future, waiting for you.

We others, who have long lost the more subtle of the physical senses, have not even proper terms to express an animal's inter-communications with his surroundings, living or otherwise, and have only the word 'smell,' for instance, to include the whole range of delicate thrills which murmur in the nose of the animal night and day, summoning, warning, inciting, repelling.

Brodie Bruce: I LOVE THE SMELL OF COMMERCE IN THE MORNING!

The air is heavy with sickness. It's not quite a smell; rather, it's like a physical presence. Every doctor knows this. Sickness permeates a room like steam.

I love the smell of turbines in the morning.

Sugar syrup may develop a black mold in the pail when the bees don't eat it for a several days, or it may actually ferment if the weather is warm. A good rule of thumb is, if the look or the smell of the syrup is such that you wouldn't drink it, don't give it to your bees.

I smell pancakes, Al said as he jauntily smacked Pierce's hat back on the witch's head. Did the runt make you breakfast? Al said, leaning over the stove. Quickest way to a woman's crotch is through her gullet, eh? he said, leering at Pierce, who was now rinsing out the percolator. Is it working? I'd be curious to know. I'd buy her a cake or something.

It stinks of trains and that chili with the chocolate in it. Ooooh, books! he exclaimed suddenly, making a beeline for the small library. (Al)

It was starting to smell really good in here. And if I liked what it smelled like, then they were liking what they were smelling, and ah…that would be me.

The coffee smelled wonderful, and as it went chattering into a mug

The sensation passed, and after a bit of thought he decided it must have been that the decelerating car had passed momentarily through one g. An image came to him, of running out a long pier, wet uneven boards splashed with silver fish scales; he could even smell the salt fish stink. One g. Funny how the body remembered it.