A Quote by Catulle Mendes

Money does not smell of the mire whence it came; it has the glorious scent of what will be. — © Catulle Mendes
Money does not smell of the mire whence it came; it has the glorious scent of what will be.
Then I turned to him commanding That he go the way he came, whence he came. But he answered me in sorrow, "May the Past not seek to borrow From the Present without blame - Just one memory from its store, Ere it goes to come no more, Back the pathway that it came, whence it came?"
The smell of money is good, come whence it may. [Alluding to Vespasian's tax on ordure.]
Let them make their war. Whence come night and day? Whence will the eagle become gray? Whence is it that night is dark? Whence is it that the linnet is green? The ebullition of the sea, How is it not seen?
Scent is very important to me but it is the case that my colleagues think it is hilarious that I simply cannot smell, ever, the smell of cannabis.
When to the Permanent is sacrificed the Mutable, the prize is thine: the drop returneth whence it came. The Open Path leads to the changeless change - Non-Being, the glorious state of Absoluteness, the Bliss past human thought.
When you smell our candles burning, what does it make you think of, my child?" Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit. I smell hot bread baking. I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf. I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me. "I don't smell anything," she said.
Whence comes war and fighting, and factions? Whence but from the body and the lust of the body? Wars are occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be acquired for the same and service of the body.
There's no time to be modest. Reason will not work here. Without warning, I kiss Kartik. His lips, pressed firmly against mine, are a surprise. They are warm, light as breath, firm as the give of a peach against my mouth. A scent like scorched cinnamon hangs in the air, but I'm not falling into any vision. It's his smell in me. A smell that makes my stomach drop through my feet. A smell that pushes all thought out of my head and replaces it with an overpowering hunger for more.
Know from whence you came. If you know whence you came, there are absolutely no limitations to where you can go.
Glorious the northern lights astream; Glorious the song, when God's the theme; Glorious the thunder's roar: Glorious hosanna from the den; Glorious the catholic amen; Glorious the martyr's gore.
If Leekes you like, but do their smell dis-like, Eat Onyons, and you shall not smell the Leeke; If you of Onyons would the scent expell, Eat Garlicke, that shall drowne the Onyons' smell.
You want the scent? Smell yourself!
When you're creating a fragrance, you're always thinking about what you want that first smell to be, that first reaction. It's a sensation, like a symphony with all of those layers and notes. I love the way it changes and the way it dries down. The fun thing about scent is that it's unique to everyone; pheromones take on a new scent.
I actually don't wear fragrance. I always feel like I smell cheap. I guess I just haven't found one that's not overpowering or too sweet. Even when I try one of the super masculine scents, I just think, 'I don't want to smell like a man.' Besides, I like my own scent.
If summer had one defining scent, it'd definitely be the smell of barbecue.
Honey, I can smell the scent of another woman from 500 paces.
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