Top 26 Odorous Quotes
#1. It is in the brain that the poppy is red, that the apple is odorous, that the skylark sings.
Oscar Wilde
#2. Odorous as a crateful of bad eggs with the miasma of original sin.
Anthony Burgess
#3. Hawthorn, white and odorous with blossom, framing the quiet fields, and swaying flowers and grasses, and the hum of bees.
F. S Flint
#4. Flowers are the bright remembrances of youth; they waft us back, with their bland odorous breath, the joyous hours that only young life knows, ere we have learnt that this fair earth hides graves.
Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington
#5. With odorous oil thy head and hair are sleek; And then thou kemb'st the tuzzes on thy cheek: Of these, my barbers take a costly care.
John Dryden
#6. ye cannot, save in Salem, where they tell me the young girls breathe such musk, their sailor sweethearts smell them miles off shore, as though they were drawing nigh the odorous Moluccas instead of the Puritanic sands.
Herman Melville
#7. A turd placed in the snow will become hard and significantly less odorous than its warm weather counterpart. This doesn't mean that it has ceased to be a turd.
P.J. Hetherhouse
#8. What child has ever known the country and has not twined hundreds of fragrant wreaths with the yellow shining cowslip and the more frail and delicate violet - mingling here and there green leaves culled from the odorous eglantine, or, as we more commonly call it, sweetbriar.
Dorothea Dix
#9. The rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous, the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading.
Kenneth Grahame
#10. Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.
Walt Whitman
#11. Coming joys, like tropical shores, throw over the immensity before them their inborn softness, an odorous wind, and we are lulled by this intoxication without a thought of the horizon that we do not even know.
Gustave Flaubert
#12. Man made another imperceptible step toward his grave; but he saw close before him the delights of rest, the joys of the odorous tavern, and he was satisfied.
Maxim Gorky
#13. And where she went, the flowers took thickest root, As she had sow'd them with her odorous foot.
Ben Jonson
#14. There is a hill beside the silver Thames, Shady with birch and beech and odorous pine; And brilliant underfoot with thousand gems, Steeply the thickets to his floods decline.
Robert Bridges
#15. It's easier when you play. You get your emotion out. You scream. You yell. You do whatever you want. You play. But it's tough to sit.
Goran Ivanisevic
#17. The defense of the revolution is the defense of the people.
Sukarno
#18. I am the androgyne, I am the living mind you fail to describe in your dead language the lost noun, the verb surviving only in the infinitive the letters of my name are written under the lids of the newborn child
Adrienne Rich
#19. I'd always wanted to think that love could heal anything. But I realized lying there, eyes closed, listening to Asher breathe, that really love is what happens when you find out that it can't.
Cassie Alexander
#20. Everything we experience-no matter how unpleasant-comes into our lives to teach us something.
Iyanla Vanzant
#21. There can be nothing sacred in something that has a price.
E.F. Schumacher
#22. As a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.
Anonymous
#23. And in your new lives you'll have to live entirely for that one sensation-that of imminent truth. And you're going to have to holler for it, steal for it, beg for it-and you're never to stop asking questions about it twenty-four hours a day, the rest of your life.
Douglas Coupland
#24. The period that I would anoint as the golden era in American journalism was from the mid 1950s to the mid 1970s. It had three separate major strands: the Civil Rights struggle over integration of schools and public facilities in the South; the Vietnam War; and Watergate.
Anonymous
#25. They wear themselves out in vain travail, without reaching their blessed consummation, because they delight in creatures, not in the Creator.
Bernard Of Clairvaux
#26. For what other reason might we cling to objects, old photographs, tarnished jewelry, yellowed letters? They're charms, little pieces of magic. When we touch them, we regain for a second what time has stolen or worn away.
Lisa Unger
