Quotes about scents (16 Quotes)


    The raisin exercise makes you aware of sights, sounds, scents and tastes. Now I relax, slow down, and take time to appreciate things around me -- a bird or a cricket, the wind in the trees. Meditation makes my life a little more peaceful. It's made me a better me.


    The stillness of the early morning scene enables me to take in and enjoy many things which pass me by during the bustle of the day. First, there are the scents, which seem even more generous with their offerings than they are in the evening.


    Today I think Only with scents, scents dead leaves yield, And bracken, and wild carrot's seed, An the square mustard field Odours that rise When the spade wounds the root of tree, Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed, Rhubarb or celery.




    The flowers never waste their sweetness on the desert air or, for that matter, on the jungle air. In fact, they waste it only when nobody except a human being is there to smell it. It is for the bugs and a few birds, not for men, that they dye their petals or waft their scents.


    What do we look for as reward Some little sounds, and scents, and scenes A small hand darting strawberryward A woman's aprons full of greens. The sense that we have brought to birth Out of the cold and heavy soil, The blessed fruits and flowers of earth Is large reward for our toil.

    The Sussex lanes were very lovely in the autumn. . . . spendthrift gold and glory of the year-end . . . earth scents and the sky winds and all the magic of the countryside which is ordained for the healing of the soul.

    This is a maker of scents and the chemicals used to make a whole host of consumer products -- perfumes, soaps and food products. I like companies where their customers that are actually generating the demand, ... It has very high returns on capital, a good business and a reasonable valuation.

    WAKING In spring I write of earth still half asleep, of matted grass and weeds not yet aware that stretching fingers stir the soil down deep and sift the frozen dreams of roots with air that breathes forgotten scents of blossoming. I write of branches stiff and gnarled with cold, like ancient bones that can't remember spring or how the sun could painlessly unfold each timid, paling leaf. I write of birds returning one by one. They leave their flocks for tempting caterpillars scrawled like words across my garden wall of crumbling rocks. These early signs of spring unthaw my brain from numbing winter rest. I write again.

    The military mind is indeed a menace. Old-fashioned futurity that sees only men fighting and dying in smoke and fire hears nothing more civilized than a cannonade scents nothing but the stink of battle-wounds and blood.

    Driving a motorcycle is like flying. All your senses are alive. When I ride through Beverly Hills in the early morning, and all the sprinklers have turned off, the scents that wash over me are just heavenly. Being House is like flying, too. You're free of the gravity of what people think.

    As I look now, people are lined up or sitting down with tubes in their nose trying different scents. That usually gets a pretty big crowd. (The reception is) a great opportunity to get people to talk in a more relaxed atmosphere.



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