Quotes About Aroma

She smelled like water that had been warmed by the sun, and she also had the sharp, enticing aroma of birch leaves.

Die Luft ist gehaltvoll wie Früchtebrot, als sollte man mehr mit ihr machen als sie nur einatmen, vielleicht ein großes Stück herausbeißen oder sie sich händeweise ins Gesicht reiben.

The sound of the blades on the ice in the morning is like smelling fresh coffee.

The whole place reeked of tharra.

One of my greatest extravagances is smelly candles. I'm embarrassed to say, but I spend a disproportionate amount of money on candles. It adds up.

Food for me has to pop, and at Spice Market, the food really pops.

Spices, of course, are essential.

I really love Indian food, especially if you can get it spicy. Any food you can get spicy I really love, and Indian food is just so flavorful: a lot of onion, a lot of garlic.

I'm the least spiritual person in the world. I can't even abide a smelly candle. I know it's meant to make me relax, and that immediately makes my hackles rise.

Is a man satisfied, merely because he is perfumed himself, to mingle with a malodorous crowd?

He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.

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.

I love the scent of a man under pressure.

Working on the native-herb garden in the front corner of the yard. Already thriving: thyme, hyssop, spearmint, lemon balm, fennel, chamomile, marjoram. Must add: lavender, ambrosia, valerian, mugwort, pennyroyal, gillyflower, and (when it's warmer) sweet basil.

She smelled good: not an easy thing to accomplish in 1714.

Coals gleamed in the hearth and the air was fragrant with pine branches, frankincense, and lapsang souchong tea. It was New Year's Day.

They walk into the hop field. Carefully. There is an enveloping smell, a resiny odor not unlike marijuana, the sharp smell that comes off an expensive beer.

same smell of lavender and honeysuckle and oily wool. We're crutching

Every time you smell peaches, a ghost just got his rocks off.

She wrapped her hands around the warm mug and breathed in the steam, savoring the smell.

I closed my eyes and took in a big snort of air. It was like someone took a old pot and poured about a hundred gallons of hot apple cider and a hundred gallons of hot coffee into it, then stirred eight or nine sweet potato pies, crusts and all, into that, then let six big steamy meat loafs float on top of all that, then threw in a couple of handfuls of smashed potatoes, then boiled the whole thing on high. This must be exactly how heaven smells!

Coffee?" Isabelle finger-combed her hair and tied a cotton scarf around her head. "No, merci, it is too precious." The old woman gave her a smile. "No one suspects a woman my age of anything. It makes me good at trading. Here." She offered Isabelle a cracked porcelain mug full of steaming black coffee. Real coffee. Isabelle wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed deeply of the familiar, never-again-to-be-taken-for-granted aroma. Madame

As she passed a café filled with German

She could smell the boy spice beneath the thrift-store aroma of his jacket, and the rubbing and the smell began to work to soften her -- like butter before you add sugar, in the first steps of making something sweet. It was her first experience of how bodies could meld together, how breath could slip naturally into rhythm. It was hypnotic. Heady. And she wanted more.