A Quote by Groucho Marx

A thing that has always baffled me about women is that they will saturate themselves with a pint of perfume, a pound of sachet powder, an evil-smelling lip rouge, a peculiar-smelling hair ointment and a half-dozen varieties of body oils, and then have the effrontery to complain of the aroma of a fine dollar cigar.
When I was smelling Heretic for the first time, I was impressed because it was organic-smelling and light and refreshing and natural and not overbearing at all and not too synthetic or floral. It doesn't smell like you're wearing cotton candy.
Everyone coming out of a perfume store is smelling the back of their hand.
In the morning, I never cleanse. I just splash my face with water and pat it dry. I honestly think that the human body is a clever thing and that the natural oils my skin produces are best for it. Then I apply a dab of rouge, and I'm off.
The question about those aromatic advertisements that perfume companies are having stitched into magazines these days is this: under the freedoms guaranteed by the First Amendment, is smelling up the place a constitutionally protected form of expression?
It's weird what can trigger the beginning of a song or some bars. It can be a banging slice of apple pie or it can be smelling a certain perfume or something.
I love walking into a closet and smelling lingering perfume, so I always spray my clothes. And at the end of the bottle, when the atomizer no longer reaches the tiny little dribble that is left, I unscrew the top and pour the remainder onto a t-shirt or dress.
Diffusers not only leave your home smelling clean and fresh, but the oils that you choose to use in it can leave you feeling refreshed and stress free!
Consider the rose...The rose is the sweetest smelling flower of all, and it's the most beautiful because it's the most simple, right? But sometimes, you got to clip the rose. You got to cut the rose back, so something sweeter smelling and stronger, and even more beautiful, will grow in its place
He was in my hair, my eyes, my fingers, my heart. I day-dreamed about what he was doing, thinking, seeing, smelling, feeling. I could not eat for thoughts of him.
I once bought an ill-advised half cashmere, half camel hair jumper for £800, then ruined it by spilling a pint of Guinness all over it.
But what is worse, smelling the roast and not feasting, or not smelling the roast at all?
Some medical beast had revived tar-water in those days as a fine medicine, and Mrs. Joe always kept a supply of it in the cupboard; having a belief in its virtues correspondent to its nastiness. At the best of times, so much of this elixir was administered to me as a choice restorative, that I was conscious of going about, smelling like a new fence.
And though the coldness I have always felt leaves me, the numbness doesn't and probably never will. this relationship will probably lead to nothing... this didn't change anything. I imagine her smelling clean, like tea.
Our planet is being turned into a filthy and evil-smelling imperialist barrack.
I am all for the iPad, but trust me - smelling it will get you nowhere.
Only a pint at breakfast-time, and a pint and a half at eleven o'clock, and a quart or so at dinner. And then no more till the afternoon; and half a gallon at supper-time. No one can object to that.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!