Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Odour. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Odour Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Will Cotton,Mary Webb,Julian Fellowes,Kathleen Tessaro,Mokokoma Mokhonoana for you to enjoy and share.
Smells are so powerful and evocative, sometimes stronger than visual cues.
Fragrance is the voice of inanimate things.
One of the things that you're not really in control of - apart from everything - is your smell.
Smells are custodians of memories.
Faeces by any other name would smell as gross
Body odor is the window to the soul.
You smell of shadows and dreams. And dead things.
Noses to the wind, we inhaled a farrago of scents: charcoal and jasmine, rotting fruit and eucalyptus, gasoline and ammonia, a swirling belch from the city's poorly irrigated gut.
the rank and melancholy smell of charred wet wood and sodden leaves coming towards me on a wisp of air.
The sense of smell explores; deleterious substances almost always have an unpleasant smell.
That smelled strongly of misery, which, as anyone will tell you, is a subtle mixture of hope, despair, rancid cooking fat, and men's piss.
One word came to mind: pee-yew. Evan tried to place the odor; it wasn't a heap of decayed garbage or that of a spoiled fish. Truth be told, he smelled like rotten cheese.
Smell is incredibly important and sensual; it communicates who you are.
Childhood smells of perfume and brownies.
The room stank of semen and smoke and sweat and whiskey, of old carpet and sour hay, saddle leather, shit and cheap soap.
It smelled something like a keg of bad beer overturned in a mortician's storage room on a hot summer's day.
There was a strong odor of electricity, grease and existential bitterness.
mmmmen stink! bossss stink! hungry
Like odorless, colorless smoke leaking into the room through a small crack in the door.
I bypass car-size lemonade bushes, zingy with a hint of gym socks, toward a patch of lichen flourishing at the base of a eucalyptus. I put my nose right up to the musty scent, even though it smells like raccoon urine. Aromateurs are trained from an early age to view each scent with objectivity. "You
The house had the stale smell of a grandparent. When you're a kid, the smell gives you the creeps; when you're an adult, you want to bottle it and let it out with a cup of cocoa on a bad day.
What is it that I especially find utterly unendurable? That I cannot cope with, that makes me choke and faint? Bad air! Bad air! The approach of some ill-constituted thing; that I have to smell the entrails of some ill-constituted soul!
Noise: a stench in the ear.
Our actions make the fragrance of our lives ... Would you smell of plums? Or Vinegar?
There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.
Albumen, and made other foul-smelling things into
Foul smell of the things that we do to escape
There is no glamour in this. No rock and roll.
This is just endings. This is just grief.
that weird sour body odor only monsters have, like a skunk that's been living off Mexican food. Grover
The smell slaps me sideways. Like when Mom grabs a container she forgot about from the back of the fridge and she says, "Here Mickey, smell this and see if it's still good," and I open it and take a whiff before noticing the fuzz. Like that.
The stench of impurity before God and the angels is so great, that no stench in the world can equal it.
Smells like homeless man's crotch. Not that I've ever been up close and personal with a homeless man's crotch, but ...
What smells so? Has somebody been burning a Rag, or is there a Dead Mule in the Back yard? No, the Man is Smoking a Five-Cent Cigar.
Everything smells like mildew, and the grim commitment to filth that can only be cultivated by post-adolescent boys.
But I am not going to give every detail. Some things lose their fragrance when opened to the air, and there are stirrings of the soul which cannot be put into words without destroying their delicacy.
It's the smell of life, Mother." Emily drew deep. "Gasoline, horses, the sweat of men, the perfume of women.
The vision of milk and honey, it comes and goes. But the odor of cooking goes on forever.
smell its acrid horsehair upholstery and stale flour,
It smelled like Lysol and desperation.
The voice he did not hear, the scent without a smell.
The best smell in the world is that man that you love.
He smelled like somebody trying to smell like somebody else.
Bad smells made her angry, they were a personal affront.
Smell is a long-distance sense, a way of stretching time and finding out in advance what lies ahead.
If your kitchen smells good, your food lost something.
It smells like mulberries."
"Sometimes it smells like bananas or artichokes.
Smell of natural gas, piped from the big metal tank in the backyard, filled once a month by a truck.
It smells like grade school - boredom, paste, Lysoled vomit. I
Writer speaks a stench.
Everything stinks until it's finished.
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
The place smelled of sweat and burned coffee and the passage of time, which held its own moldy stink.
The odor of the room was baked fruit, beeswax, pine, and old newspapers.
There is often something poisonous in the air of public rooms,
She noticed a bitter aroma of a extinguished cigar, the citrus scent of cologne. And underneath those, an electric odour of excitement, of barely controlled fury.
A scent that disturbs me and delights me. It smells like ripe pears, vetiver, a bit of violet and something else- something spicy almost biting and exotic.
Smell brings to mind ... a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years.
To smell, though well, is to stink.
I was overwhelmed by the smells. Slow, heavy odours, tenaciously biting, forming a strange mixture of excessive life and death, of birth and decay.
The smell of chemicals clings to the kitchen, a strange mixture of bleach and noxious lemon. The floor glistens, everything within eyesight scoured.
There's a bad odor about a man who's been betrayed.
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.
Ambition is the intellectual equivalent of body odour.
It was a peculiar odor, the smell of sexual violation, a mixture of rotting flesh and underarm stench. They shivered even though the heat belowdecks would've suffocated the weak. Our desecrated brothers survived because, as best we could, we reminded them of who they were.
And that aroma of sex ... soft baby asparagus cut with a weak solution of Clorox.
Being alive, if you had to define it, meant emitting a variety of smells
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
If odours may worke satisfaction, they are so soveraigne in plants and so comfortable that no confection of the apothecaries can equall their excellent vertue.
Smell remembers and tells the future ... Smell is home or loneliness. Confidence or betrayal. Smell remembers.
Presently, we were aware of an odour gradually coming towards us, something musky, fiery, savoury, mysterious, - a hot drowsy smell, that lulls the senses, and yet enflames them, - the truffles were coming.
An oppressive odor of decay now mingled with the stench of mold and seemed to clutch at the very breath in their lungs.
Fragrances fill the senses with the mysterious.
Scent is often underestimated, when it can be the most evocative.
The air smelled of salt and frying fish, of hot tar and honey, of incense and oil and sperm.
He smelled of something I do not know the name of which Father often smells of when he comes home from work.
Our foyer has a funny smell that doesn't smell like anyplace else. I don't know what the hell it is. It isn't cauliflower and it isn't perfume - I don't know what the hell it is - but you always know you're home.
I stopped and filled my lungs, smelling Africa - smelling dust, woodsmoke, a perfume from a flower, something musty, something decaying.
It was just wet, not stinky?
There sure are a lot of smells floating around the ol' factory.
Everything stinks till it's finished.
I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.
Farting, don't think, just fart.
...the unmistakable smell of poverty, a mixture of cigarette smoke, weed, stale sweat, and fried food.
I walk the city,
through its crush of people
and its smells:
body odour, rotting food,
vomit and urine.
A cocktail
of oppression and freedom.
A complicit mustiness hung in the air, the odour of silence and calm.
Everyone is obsessed with air fresheners. We associate smell with disgust. But we're all locked into the body; we can't escape it.
Most fatal diseases had their own specific odor, but ... none was as specific as old age.
Once you've gotten used to a certain kind of smell from a certain kind of flesh, whether it's a lover or a rotting corpse, you long for it when it's not around. Or maybe it's just me.
Smell is a strange sight. It evokes sentimental landscapes through a sudden sketching of the subconscious.
The air was heavy with unstable chemicals, mold, and the earthy stench of hashish. The fat of candles burned, great tears of wax spilling onto the sidewalk.
Hazard of the job. That's Ode de Anal Gland you smell.
Smell is the primordial sense, more powerful, more primitive, more intimately tied to our memories and emotions than any other. A scent can trigger spiritual, emotional or physical peace and stimulate healing and wellness.
There was a smell about the place, which I imagined as the smell of misery and fear, though I supposed it was no more than the niff of ancient squalor and an absence of drains.
becoming quite dizzy from the odors
There was that odor about her: not a sweetness, exactly, but a wildness suggesting breezes that have touched cold water and living wood.
Smells, I think, may be the last thing on earth to die.
Whenever I investigate a smell, I find that the answer is always bad. It's never: 'What is that? *sniff* muffins!'
eyelashes. She smelled of ambergris, roses, library dust, decayed paper, minium and printing ink, oak gall ink, and strychnine, which was being used to poison the library mice. The smell had little in common with an aphrodisiac. So it was all the stranger that it worked on him. 'Don't
If man was a logical creature: his last suspect - namely, his mouth - was going to be the first; whenever he thinks that someone, or, something is smelly.
Everyone knows that there are some odors that send you directly back to memories of your childhood - odors from Christmas time and so forth.
Evil smelled like nothing else, worse than a rotting corpse, worse than sewage and disease, more vile than the fumes that billowed from modern machinery, more cloying than the shame of drunken whores.