A Quote by George R. R. Martin

Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones. — © George R. R. Martin
Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones.
I think coaches sometimes foul their own players out of game by benching them too long when in foul trouble
Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.
I think Paris smells not just sweet but melancholy and curious, sometimes sad but always enticing and seductive. She's a city for the all senses, for artists and writers and musicians and dreamers, for fantasies, for long walks and wine and lovers and, yes, for mysteries.
Officials called a foul; there's nothing you can do. A foul is a foul. If it was a hard foul, it was a hard foul. There is nothing you can do. So you just move on.
The gentlemen like it when a lady smells sweet.
Watch them clamber, these swift monkeys! They clamber over one another and thus drag one another into the mud and the depth. They all want to get to the throne: that is their madness — as if happiness sat on the throne. Often, mud sits on the throne — and often the throne also on mud. Mad they all appear to me, clambering monkeys and overardent. Foul smells their idol, the cold monster: foul, they smell to me altogether, these idolators.
The body of a dead enemy always smells sweet.
The past is the only dead thing that smells sweet.
When you're a father you censor yourself. You get just as angry with a child but you don't want to say, "What the filth and foul and I'll filth and foul, filth and foul and, yeah, ya filth and foul face, and I'll filth and foul, foul, filth!" You don't want to say that to a child so you censor yourself and you sound like an idiot: "What the... Get your... I'll put a... Get out of my face!"
Her cover version of Smells Like Teen Spirit is the reason Kurt killed himself.
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but stiketh nere; Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough; Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.
Sometimes you get players who are faster than you or who can trick you with some skill. Sometimes you make the foul.
Honor is an old-world thing; but it smells sweet to those in whose hand it is strong.
Remember, gentlemen, what a Roman emperor said: The corpse of an enemy always smells sweet.
Truth only smells sweet forever, and illusions, however innocent, are deadly as the canker worm.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!