Just like an alley in New York -like every alley in the world, apparently- it smelled like cat pee.
Ideas come from the Earth. They come from every human experience that you’ve either witnessed or have heard about, translated into your brain in your own sense of dialogue, in your own language form. Ideas are born from what is smelled, heard, seen, experienced, felt, emotionalized. Ideas are probably in the air, like little tiny items of ozone.
The inside of the old Camaro smelled like asphalt and desire, gasoline and dreams.
The wind smelled clean, like clean magazines. It smelled like invisible ink.
I tore the dreams from my head and tossed them in the flames. And the smoke smelled like my past, and it stung my eyes but I was too stubborn to blink.
Her smile was peculiar - it made her nose wrinkle, not as though she smelled something unpleasant, but more that she was so amused, her whole face wanted to be a part of the smile.
Her clothes still smoked from the wizard’s assault. But to him, she always smelled of flowers.
The air seemed poisoned with fear and hatred. People eyed on another suspiciously, and the streets smelled of a silence that knotted your stomach.
The room was darker and smelled of evergreen, as though my mother had been dreaming of trees.
I know there is a God because in Rwanda I shook hands with the devil. I have seen him, I have smelled him and I have touched him. I know the devil exists and therefore I know there is a God.
She smelled like herself, like the wind through a tree.
Saxton smelled really good and had a handshake that was firm. "You've grown up a lot. " Blay found himself flushing as he took his hand back. "You're just the same. " "Am I?" Those pearl eyes flashed. "Is that good or bad?" "Oh. . . good. I didn't mean---" "So tell me how you've been. Are you mated to some nice female your parents set you up with?" Blay's laugh was sharp and hard. "God, no. There's no one for me.
It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you were in the only nice, dry, cosy place in the world.
Just to keep the bad dreams at bay, she took a swig out of a bottle that smelled of apples and happy brain-death.
Nothing smelled so good or danced so well as a birch fire.
It looked like a ballpark. It smelled like a ballpark. It had a feeling and a heartbeat, a personality that was all baseball.
You are the sum total of everything you've seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot- it's all right there.
Inside, my soul became so cold I hated everything. I even despised the sun, for I knew I would never be able to play in its warm presence. I cringed with hate whenever I heard other children laughing, as they played outside. My stomach coiled whenever I smelled food that was about to be served to somebody else, knowing it wasn't for me.
You should shower," I said. "Right now. " "I smell that bad?" (Patch) Actually, he smelled that good.
The air smelled of paper and dust and years.
