#smell

Only the actions of the just, Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. ↗

— James Shirley

#blossom #dust #just #only #smell

Acceptable food rots while we are chased from bins behind restaurants, chased from sleeping on the street, chased from relieving ourselves unless we pay for food or gas, until finally we are so hungry, sleepless, smelly, constipated and beaten-down that we simply die of lack of will to live. ↗

— Jane Siberry

#behind #chased #die #finally #food

I don't like to chase an audience. You can smell when someone is chasing an audience and it's not good. ↗

— M. Night Shyamalan

#chase #chasing #good #i #like

New York is not Mecca. It just smells like it. ↗

— Neil Simon

#like #mecca #new #new york #smells

Well, even to this day, if I smell a Big Mac, I'm like Pavlov's dog. My mouth starts watering immediately, like, 'Man, that is so good,' but I can't take a bite of it. ↗

— Morgan Spurlock

#big mac #bite #day #dog #even

During the course of the seven years I played scenes with an oil slick, I played a scene with a grain of rice. Sometimes with indescribable creatures. I remember having a conversation with something which was simply a smell, that's all. It was part of our job. ↗

— Patrick Stewart

#course #creatures #during #grain #having

I checked out all types of tobacco trying to find one that would be easiest to live with, I ended up using pipe tobacco. It burned slower, and it wasn't as harsh on my throat... It also smelled better. ↗

— David Strathairn

#better #burned #checked #easiest #ended

I had hoped that he has mouth smell or something other repelling, but nothing! It was even charming. ↗

— Michelle Hunziker

#even #had #hoped #i #mouth

The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly. ↗

— William Wordsworth

#lowly #shy #smells #sweetest

It was her first book, an indigo cover with a silver moonflower, an art nouveau flower, I traced my finger along the silver line like smoke, whiplash curves. ... I touched the pages her hands touched, I pressed them to my lips, the soft thick old paper, yellow now, fragile as skin. I stuck my nose between the bindings and smelled all the readings she had given, the smell of unfiltered cigarettes and the espresso machine, beaches and incense and whispered words in the night. I could hear her voice rising from the pages. The cover curled outward like sails. ↗

— Janet Fitch

#silver #smell #wanting #art