...imagine what you are writing about. See it and live it. Do not think it up laboriously, as if you were working out mental arithmetic. Just look at….

The body of a dead enemy always smells sweet..

Don't forget to stop and smell the roses..

Nobody has it all, but for me to even come close is amazing..

I've never worn fur, either. I'm a naturally squeamish person, and fur smells like dead animal to me..

Death smells like homemade applesauce as it cooks on the stove. It is not the strangling scent of illness. It is not fear. It is freedom..

I love to smell like roses, literally all day!.

Burn, Hollywood, burn, I smell a riot goin' on, First they're guilty, now they're gone!.

Where do we come from? What are We? Where are we going?.

I'm just looking to get through the day..

Death is not too great a price for a life fully lived..

Things are not always as they appear to be as..

I don't like to be afraid. I'm afraid every day, all the time..

I like to travel and connect..

I love things that are indescribable, like the taste of an avocado or the smell of a gardenia..

My partner is a Frenchman, so I have got to smell right..

The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight.

When one tears away the veils and shows them naked, people's souls give off such a pungent smell of decay..

The smell of subjectivity clings to the mechanical definition of complexity as stubbornly as it sticks to the definition of information..

No one will understand a Japanese garden until you've walked through one, and you hear the crunch underfoot, and you smell it, and you experience it ….

I love to dance.I've been told I'm actually really good..