"Fragrance" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... olive-shaded streams. The violets, instead of peeping shyly from hedgerows, fall in ripples and cascades over mossy walls among maidenhair and spleen-worts. They are very sweet, and the sound of trickling water seems to mingle with their fragrance in a most delicious harmony. Sound, smell, and hue make up one chord, the sense of which is pure and perfect peace. The country-people are kind, letting us pass everywhere, so that we make our way along their aqueducts and through their gardens, under laden lemon-boughs, the pale fruit dangling ...
— Sketches and Studies in Italy and Greece • John Addington Symonds
... Spanish dagger over the fireplace. A sketch of Vambety's and one of Kendal's, sacredly framed, hung where she could always see them. There was a vague suggestion of roses about the room, and a mingled fragrance of joss-sticks and cigarettes. The candle shone principally upon a little bronze Buddha, who sat lotus-shrined on the writing-table among Elfrida's papers, with an ineffable, inscrutable smile. On the top shelf of a closet in the wall a small pile of canvases gathered dust, face ...
— A Daughter of To-Day • Sara Jeannette Duncan (aka Mrs. Everard Cotes)
... of ice-cool air came to her from an open watercourse at the roadside, and the fragrance of a hundred roses from the one beautiful garden in the station that surrounded the Deputy-Commissioner's house. They passed for a while between overarching trees, but the glimpse of Eden was short-lived. ...
— Captain Desmond, V.C. • Maud Diver
... know him craven, dog, not man, revealed A panting drudge of lust, who held me here Caged vessel. Nay, come close. I loved him dear, Too dear, I know; but never till he came Had known the leap of joy, the fire of flame Upon the heart he gave me, Paris the bright, Whose memory was music and his sight Fragrance, whose nearness made my footfall dance, Whose touch was fever, and his burning glance Faintness and blindness; in whose light my life Centred; who was the sun, and I, false wife, The foolish flower ...
— Helen Redeemed and Other Poems • Maurice Hewlett
... the garden, Here she but faintly lives, Lives but for me, Within this little urn of pot-pourri Of all that was And never more can be, While her black berries harden On the wind-shaken tree. Yet if my song a little fragrance gives, 'Tis not all loss, Something I save From the sweet grave Wherein she lies, Something she gave That never dies, Something that may still live In these my words That draw from her their breath, And fain would be her ...
— A Jongleur Strayed - Verses on Love and Other Matters Sacred and Profane • Richard Le Gallienne
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