Quotes About Pungent

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

Muftis and bishops should be like ripe camembert cheeses - a bit on the nose and not for the faint-hearted, but memorable!

El paraíso huele de una forma muy concreta: a alcantarilla.

Pepper is small but not its zest

Splendid cheeses they were, ripe and mellow, and with a two hundred horse-power scent about them that might have been warranted to carry three miles, and knock a man over at two hundred yards.

considering the possibility of being doomed to the state of a Jiki-ketsu-gaki, I want to have my chance of being reborn in some bamboo flower-cup, or mizutame, whence I might issue softly, singing my thin and pungent song, to bite some people that I know.

When a skunk sprays, a lot of bystanders have to deal with the stink.

Morocco: to its warmth and generosity, its exoticism, and its crumbling, pungent, ever-present history.

I remember the first time I smelled B.O. was at a cross-country meet. But it wasn't unpleasant, in a strange way. That's what you got when you worked hard.

Blanc and Nandron were chefs in the Burgundian and Lyonnais traditions: founded on broad flavors as seductive as Burgundy wine (which was used in many of the recipes). Blanc was an innovator, but his tastes always had an authentic link to the classically pungent flavors of the region.

She is full uh pepper, John laughed to himself, but ah laks dat. Anything 'thout no seasonin' in it ain't no good.

I smiled at him as best I could and pushed the paper across the table before he could change his mind. Because Henry DeVille was correct - there was an ingredient in my baking more concenctrated than any extract, more pungent than any spice; an ingredient that everyone would recognize and no one was able to name: it was regret, and it rose when one least expected.

The vodka, when served, was as pungent and wonderful as I had imagined it would be, the paint thinner I needed to strip down the stained, flaking walls of my interior.

he smoked so much marijuana that his hair smelled like a cupboard crammed with oregano;

There is no such thing as a little garlic.

some bits of Dickens-books with which latter I am long familiar and long enamored for the restful falseness of their sentiment and the pungent appetizing charm of their villains.

Stinking Bishop