Quotes About Putrid

Jenn's oar struck one, causing it to roll over. As it did, the putrid flesh of its face slid off like hot cheese.

Broadway is not about surprises. It's about rewarding the putrid, formulaic crap that makes Broadway Broadway.

The only feasible reason I can discover is a depraved appetite, giving an extraordinary craving for meat which we call "high." They are said to bury a dead body for a couple of days in the soil in a forest, and in that time, owing to the climate, it soon becomes putrid enough for the strongest stomachs.

Instead of saying "Amanda took one look at the hotel room and recoiled in disgust," describe the room in such a way that the readers feel that disgust for themselves. You don't want to give your readers information. You want to give them experiences.

It's the kind of stink that would turn a buzzard vegan.

You have much in common with bad chicken salad...Nausea inducing occasionally deadly. A smell that is decidedly off...

Cuánta desolación. La claridad azul remachaba en el alma la monotonía de toda nuestra vida, cavilaba hedionda, taciturna.

You know about innards? The trick they play on tramps in the country? They stuff an old wallet with putrid chicken innards. Well, take it from me, a man is just like that, except that he's fatter and hungrier and can move around, and inside there's a dream.

Half of Paris sleeps amidst the putrid exhalations of courts and streets and sewers.

It is difficult to put words to the smell of decomposing human. It is dense and cloying, sweet but not flower-sweet. Halfway between rotting fruit and rotting meat.

it stank to the heavens; when

I cannot even hint what it was like, for it was a compound of all that is unclean, uncanny, unwelcome, abnormal, and detestable. It was the ghoulish shade of decay, antiquity, and dissolution; the putrid, dripping eidolon of unwholesome revelation, the awful baring of that which the merciful earth should always hide.

swollen bowels burst and an intolerable stench assailed the nostrils of bystanders

This stinks like a roadkill skunk.

he stank more than any human joe had ever smelled, as if he had been dipped in some ungodly confection of camembert and rancid gasoline brewed up in a spit-filled cuspidor.

Lieutenant Tindall told me I'd find you up here tilting at putrid windmills. Now I know what he meant.

Your words smell of corpses.

odor like that of rotting meat permeated

smells like somebody's old socks wrapped around a dead skunk, at least this one did, and the wind was blowing this way.

There's so much truly putrid advertising out there it's embarrassing. But not all advertising is bad. Some of it is really quite mediocre.

Shrivel up and die, you putrescent sack of larva!

What's that smell?" I froze. What? Did I really smell so distasteful he had only to lean in my direction to catch a putrid whiff of me? I stayed the urge to break his freaking nose for pointing out my stinkiness. He sniffed again. "I can't place it." "How bad is it?" I asked, my cheeks heating. "It's good. Some kind of flower." My first thought: Hurray! I don't stink. My second: Ohmygod!

They smelled death and it revolted them and shot the bile high in the throat.

There's a small choice in rotten apples.