perfume

A woman who doesn't wear perfume has no future.

There was also something about the smell of bookshops that was strangely comforting to her. She wondered if it was the scent of ink and paper, or the perfume of binding, string, and glue. Maybe it was the scent of knowledge. Information. Thoughts and ideas. Poetry and love. All of it bound into one perfect, calm place.

Like most little girls, I found the lure of grown-up accessories astonishing - lipstick, perfume, hats and gloves. When I write female characters in my historical novels, getting these details right is vital.

_in that moment, as he saw and smelled how irresistible its effect was and how with lightning speed it spread and made captives of the people all around him__n that moment his whole disgust for humankind rose up again within him and completely soured his triumph, so that he felt not only no joy, but not even the least bit of satisfaction. What he had always longed for__hat other people should love him__ecame at the moment of his achievement unbearable, because he did not love them himself, he hated them. And suddenly he knew that he had never found gratification in love, but always only in hatred__n hating and in being hated.

I thought of myself mixing the fragrance of a certain day _ the heavy musk of the hillside after the rain with the lightness of fresh blossoms doused in the downpour. I thought of each little bottle as the essence of a happy day or a sad one. I mixed the scent of a lonely moment _ sandalwood and bergamot lingering over a rich, peppery base.

Bushido as an independent code of ethics may vanish, but its power will not perish from the earth; its schools of martial prowess or civic honor may be demolished, but its light and its glory will long survive their ruins. Like its symbolic flower, after it is blown to the four winds, it will still bless mankind with the perfume with which it will enrich life.

The syrup of lilies hangs thick and sweet in the air, its cloying scent the traditional mask of death and rebirth: ashes and incense, rain and dirt, and something like rosin. It's the scent Hector associates with God. The scent of heavenly things.

...a woman not yet seen, but whose perfume accumulates on the horizon like a storm cloud.

If you don't smell good, then you don't look good.

I__ not sure what it was or where she sprayed it, but her scent will be the end of the life I loved. And I will find comfort in the simpleness of sitting with her on a Saturday afternoon with nothing else to do.

This sweet-bitter scentIs still making me faintEnduring the painThat makes me insane.Trying to smile everydayTo hide the feelings I bearHide in bed and layPraying to ease the fear.The scent of perfumeIs the reason of my consciousnessIt wakens the inner loomAnd brings back the memories.