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.
I keep going back as if Im looking for something I have lost back to the motherland, sisterland, fatherland back to the beacon, the breast the smell and taste of the breeze, and the singing of the rain.
She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of the horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well.
Snatching my hand in the death grip of his fingers, he pulls me off the wall to line his chest, closing his body around me in a muscular cage which smells of leather and soap.
I was raised among books, making invisible friends in pages that seemed cast from dust and whose smell I carry on my hands to this day.
Birds chirped and hawked in the distance. A group of them, maybe vultures, circled the sky. Rae glanced at the blanket. Those damn birds could probably smell Marissa, and the second everyone left, they'd pounce on her.
I like to think of this little [newspaper] column as a brassière, or do I mean brasserie? Brazier, possibly. All three! A column that lifts, separates, supports, serves excellent cappuccino and crackles merrily with sweet-smelling old chestnuts.
Hey, I notice you look like you're coming down off a meth binge and smell vaguely of algae. Were you perchance dancing with a snakebit Margo Roth Spiegelman a couple of hours ago?
I was slightly thankful when Mom finally came out and unlocked the car. It was warm and toasty inside and it smelt like home. There was not the slightest smell of something that didn’t belong home.
What can I say about love that’s never been said by me or anyone else? Well, sometimes love smells like my farts, after I eat a dozen roses.
If love fell in love with another word, do you think that word would smell, taste, and rhyme with it? I think so, and I think that word is jambalaya, but maybe I’m pronouncing love wrong.
Alex chuckled and whispered in her ear. “I’m feeling huge . . . I mean I have this huge desire . . . Crap, you feel good tonight. And you smell so good.
You smell good," he whispered into my neck. He was warm against me. Instinctively, I arched back into him and smiled. "Really?" "Mmm-hmm. Delicious. Like bacon.
God have pity on the smell of gasoline which finds its way like an arm through a car window, more human than kerosene, more unctuous, more manly.
Resistance cannot be seen, touched, heard, or smelled. But it can be felt.
Wow. This place looks classy. The smell of fertilizer and rot is really in this season. Remind me, what are we doing here?” she asked looking at him with a coy smile. “Did we come for bait?
It's why I went into teaching in the first place. I like the sound of my own voice. Well that, and I am addicted to the smell of chalk and white-board markers.
The feel of them (books) and the smell of them. A bookshop was like an Aladdin's cave for me. Entire worlds and lives can be found just behind that glossy cover. All you had to do was look." Claire (Watermelon)
Yet he could not enjoy the walk. In the morning especially a bougainvillaea looks handmade, lawns are always lawns, and it is true indeed that dogs smell fear. Cats don't say.
Your deceit smells like a fake mustache. Nobody stole my facial hair. I shaved this morning and donated half of it to the Humane Society. The other half I kept for sentimental petting reasons.
Who cares if you have a girlfriend, anyway?" "I care" Simon said gloomily. "Pretty soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor. And he smells like windex.
