A Quote by Arthur Miller

Can anyone remember love? It's like trying to summon up the smell of roses in a cellar. You might see a rose, but never the perfume. — © Arthur Miller
Can anyone remember love? It's like trying to summon up the smell of roses in a cellar. You might see a rose, but never the perfume.
A good friend and a bad friend are like a perfume-seller and a blacksmith: The perfume-seller might give you some perfume as a gift, or you might buy some from him, or at least you might smell its fragrance. As for the blacksmith, he might singe your clothes, and at the very least you will breathe in the fumes of the furnace.
Somewhere the sense makes copper roses steel roses — The rose carried weight of love but love is at an end — of roses It is at the edge of the petal that love waits.
The beloved of Allah are the perfume of Allah upon this world, but only the true, sincere believers have noses to smell them. They smell that beautiful perfume; they follow that smell. That perfume creates a yearning in their hearts for their Lord, and as a result the sincere believers increase their pace, efforts and devotions.
Beauty is an ecstasy; it is as simple as hunger. There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like the perfume of a rose: you can smell it and that is all.
I grew up in the East Village with a lot of old people in my building, and I'm not sure if they lost their sense of smell over the years, but they always seemed to smell like they poured a bottle of perfume on themselves. I never want to become that person.
I should say upfront that I have never been in a cellar in my life. In fact, I can see no reason why anyone should ever go into a cellar unless there is wine involved.
You definitely need to have red lipstick no matter what. You can have a great outfit, but it will always give you that extra little pop. I also love perfume. It doesn't even matter what the perfume is. I like to smell sweet.
It may be that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,' but I should be loath to see a rose on a maiden's breast substituted by a flower, however beautiful and fragrant it might be, that is went by the name of the skunk lily.
The fact that perfume is so close to emotion, that's why I really love it. It's such a good connection between people. When you fall in love with somebody, smell is very important. It could be your memory of the person - it's touching. And it's also playful, because sometimes you choose a different perfume every day depending on your mood. I like to help with that. I like to give a little joy to people.
I love the sound of it," Trina whispers, as if speaking too loudly might interrupt the drumming patter of the rain outside. "It makes me want to sleep. Snuggle my head right up in your armpit and snore for three days." "My armpit?" Mark repeats. "Good thing we all showered up in the storm this morning. My pits smell like roses. Go ahead and get comfy.
The honeysuckle was everywhere the day the letter arrived, like heat. Wild roses bloomed in hedges of tendrils and perfume. There were fat bees, dirigible bees, plump and miniature. It was a sweet, tangled morning, and the sun rose, leisurely, in a spectacular blush.
Growing up I never had a perfume. I was like oh, one day when I'm grownup and have money I'm going to wear perfume. I had one perfume and I would save it for really, really, really special occasions. Which meant I never actually wore it. So now it's one of those things like, I can wear perfume everyday. I can afford to buy another one, I'm really lucky that I can. Now when I have nice stuff I don't save it anymore, I try to use it.
Without a dog, you'd never have anyone demonstrate how important it is to stop every day and smell the roses... and then lift your leg on them.
And still I look for the men who will dare to be roses of England wild roses of England men who are wild roses of England with metal thorns, beware! but still more brave and still more rare the courage of rosiness in a cabbage world fragrance of roses in a stale stink of lies rose-leaves to bewilder the clever fools and rose-briars to strangle the machine.
I love to smell like roses, literally all day!
Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.
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