A Quote by William Shakespeare
Mine eyes smell onions: I shall weep anon.
Related Quotes
Onions and bacon cooking up just makes your kitchen smell so good. In fact, one day I'm going to come up with a room deodorizer that smells like bacon and onions. It's a fabulous smell.
Self-pity can make one weep, as can onions.
Onions can make even Heirs and Widows weep.
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.
Do not eat garlic or onions; for their smell will reveal that you are a peasant.
I do not like onions. It's so funny because I am probably one of the least picky eaters ever. Pretty much any type of new food, I'll try it, I'll eat it. But onions, and pork. Pork and onions.
When I lie where shades of darkness Shall no more assail mine eyes.
I wish the camera could smell my armpits. Dude, mine smell good.
When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep. So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked?
Ah, clear they see and true they say That one shall weep, and one shall stray
Onions make me sad, a lot of people don't realize that. When I'm cutting onions, I'm sad. Because the plight of onions, it's sad. But people don't realize I'm actually crying - they think I'm just reacting.
He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you." That's why.
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.
Do not weep, for I shall be more useful to you after my death and I shall help you then more effectively than during my life.
I need a bath." He chuckled. "You smell of smoke, as do I." The duke turned, leaning heavily on his cane. "Jameson, open the carriage door. We shall return to the house." Beth smiled up at Christian. "Shall we adjourn to the house to get some ointment for your hands and a bath, my love?" His eyes lit. "A bath?" Grandfather snorted. "Someone send to London for a special license! Now.
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