Best 89 quotes in «perfume quotes» category

This is Clive Christian Number One. It's one of my favorite fragrances, and one of the most exquisite. It's made from entirely pure ingredients, mainly natural aged sandalwood from India and Tahitian vanilla, but a lot of the other ingredients - the ones that produce the fine top notes- they change slightly every year, depending on availability and the perfumers' preference." Using her skills, she smelled the scarf. "Pineapple, plum, mirabelle, and peach, heart notes of jasmine, ylang ylang, orris, and carnation. I'm betting this is the '08.

This sweet-bitter scent Is still making me faint Enduring the pain That makes me insane. Trying to smile everyday To hide the feelings I bear Hide in bed and lay Praying to ease the fear. The scent of perfume Is the reason of my consciousness It wakens the inner loom And brings back the memories.

Through perfume, I smell your soul" Marian Bendeth Global Fragrance Expert Sixth Scents

Trees generously share their fruit. Bees generously share their honey. Flowers generously share their perfume. Do likewise.

Unlike perfume, handbags are visible on the body, and--like Air Jordans for teenagers--give the wearer the chance to brandish the logo and publicly declare her status or aspiration.

Your children are perfume of your love.

We choose perfumes for ourselves so we can tell the stories inside of us— the ones that we can't possibly put into words.

We want to look desirable. We want others to want to mate with us. No different than a colorful peacock. When girls dress up for their night out at the club, they are doing what all animals do when they try to make themselves desirable for a potential mate. That's the whole point behind the fashion, perfume, cosmetics, diet, and plastic surgery industries.

Você desencarcera-se da carne vertendo-te da pele em calor e através de ti eu, metal de memória assumo o tempo perdido, prometido e sim. Você desemaranha-se das entranhas vertendo-te da boca aos ouvidos em música e através de ti eu, anfiteatro de sombras estreio o tempo perdido, prometido e sim. Você se desprende do corpo vertendo-te pelos poros em perfume e através de ti eu, abelha operária teço o tempo perdido, prometido e sim. Você se descola da parede celular vertendo-te às bochechas em tempero e através de ti eu, devorador de mundos saboreio o tempo perdido, prometido e sim. Você se desencana do condicionamento te atravessando até mim por entre visões e através de ti eu, visionário das eternidades cegas contemplo o espaço descoberto, realizado e nu e não!

What we talk about less often, because it is harder to explain, is the way a perfume can give breath and body to the phantom selves that waft about us as we go through our days -- not just the showgirl, the femme fatale, and the ingenue, but all the memories and dreams of the taller, meaner, sharper, sweeter, softer people we have been or long to be.

You cannot really not care about what other people think of you and still wear a perfume or cologne.

A girl like that, Grandad said, perfumes herself with ozone and metal filings.

A fragrance always combines femininity and sensuality.

Her perfume was a mixture of roses and tear gas.

Coffe is the perfume of morning.

As perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me: all things leave me: You remain.

Childhood smells of perfume and brownies.

Go then, a starveling girl With no perfume or pearls, Only your nudity O my beauty!

I only used my whole life one perfume, and it's Cartier's Les Must.

I'm wearing a new perfume that I should recommend to the women in the audience; it's called 'Tester.

I put a basketball in front of George Clooney's door and sprayed it with supermodel perfume to lure him out.

This is a great shame, but of course there have to be some things in life that not everybody can have, and great perfume is one of them.

Let us then blend everything: love, religion, genius, with sunshine, perfume, music, and poetry.

One grain of incense with devotion offer'd 'S beyond all perfumes of Sabaean spices.

Perfume is like a parenthesis, a moment of freedom, peace, love and sensuality in between the disturbances of modern living.

Polls are like perfume-nice to smell, dangerous to swallow.

Prosperity is like perfume, it often makes the head ache.

Sweet praise is like perfume. It is fine if you don't swallow it.

That's what my perfume would smell like, margarita and vodka.

The morality code that remains after the religion that produced it is rejected is like the perfume that lingers in an empty bottle.

There are no women who do not like perfume, there are women who have not found their scent.

The smell of gunpowder is sweeter to me than all the perfumes of Arabia.

Just like men, perfume is never perfect right away; you have to let it seduce you.

Perfume is the indispensable complement to the personality of women, the finishing touch on a dress.

Poems . . . are perfume bottles momentarily unstopped - what they release is volatile and will vanish, and yet it can be released again.

Pretty women without religion are like flowers without perfume.

Smell alone amongst the senses can either destroy or quite remake a man.

Tea - that perfume that one drinks, that connecting hyphen.

The greatest style is when you can't see the style though you walk away knowing it was there. It's like a perfume - there but not there.

To smell, though well, is to stink.

A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIA If you hold this Dazzling emerald Up to the sky, It will shine a billion Beautiful miracles Painted from the tears Of the Most High. Plucked from the lush gardens Of a yellowish-green paradise, Look inside this hypnotic gem And a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colors Will tease and seduce Your eyes and mind. Tell me, sir. Have you ever heard A peacock sing? Hold your ear To this mystical stone And you will hear Sacred hymns flowing To the vibrations Of the perfumed Wind.

Two things make the women unforgettable, their tears and their perfume

You say the sweetest things. And that spaghetti perfume you're wearing is to die for. No hobo could resist." She snarled. Heh.

After we became a couple, she composed our time together. She planned days as if they were artistic events. One afternoon we went to Tybee Island for a picnic; we ate blueberries and drank champagne tinted with curacao and listened to Miles Davis, and when I asked the name of her perfume, she said it was L'Heure Bleue. She talked about 'perfect moments.' One such moment happened that afternoon; she'd been napping; I lay next to her, reading. She said, 'I'll always remember the sounds of the sea and of pages turning, and the smell of L'Heure Bleue. For me they signify love.

When I started to work on perfume, I could not reduce the idea of a woman to one smell.

A broken soul is like an alabaster box that contains expensive perfume. God recognizes its sweet aroma, our personal composition of failure and frustration, through which He chooses to teach us humility, patience, and hope.

An addition that takes time to depart, and sometimes, never leaves at all. A smell, a touch, thoughts, moments, feelings, movements, words left unsaid, words barely spoken; they all have a distinct sense, distinct fragrances! .... A pungent of cinnamon, an aroma of a rose, a summer breeze, a sweet smile like a per-fume that lingers on and on... endlessly.

A man who wears a fragrant flower on his collar spreads a perfume wherever he goes. (141)

Annabelle, what happened to you?” Lillian asked the next morning. “You look dreadful. Why aren’t you wearing your riding habit? I thought you were going to try out the jumping course this morning. And why did you disappear so suddenly last night? It’s not like you to simply vanish without saying—” “I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Annabelle said testily, folding her fingers around the delicate bowl of a porcelain teacup. Looking pale and exhausted, her blue eyes ringed with dark shadows, she swallowed a mouthful of heavily sweetened tea before continuing. “It was that blasted perfume of yours—as soon as he caught one whiff of it, he went berserk.” Shocked, Lillian tried to take in the information, her stomach plummeting. “It… it had an effect on Westcliff, then?” she managed to ask. “Good Lord, not Lord Westcliff.” Annabelle rubbed her weary eyes. “He couldn’t have cared less what I smelled like. It was my husband who went completely mad. After he caught the scent of that stuff, he dragged me up to our room and…well, suffice it to say, Mr. Hunt kept me awake all night. All night ,” she repeated in sullen emphasis, and drank deeply of the tea. “Doing what?” Daisy asked blankly. Lillian, who was feeling a rush of relief that Lord Westcliff had not been attracted to Annabelle while she was wearing the perfume, gave her younger sister a derisive glance. “What do you think they were doing? Playing a few hands of Find-the-Lady?

A rare orchid that gives off its scent only at night," Nettle replied. "The petals are pure white, far more delicate even than jasmine. One cannot obtain the essence by heating the blossoms- they are too fragile." "Cold enfleurage, then?" Lillian murmured, referring to the process of soaking the precious petals in sheets of fat until it was saturated with their fragrance, then using an alcohol-based solvent to draw out the pure essence. "Yes." She took another breath of the exquisite essence. "What is the orchid's name?" "Lady of the Night." That elicited a delighted chuckle from Daisy. "That sounds like the title of one of the novels my mother has forbidden me to read.