Musk Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
a-musk-deer-searches-for-source-fragrance-musk-but-it-wont-find-it-because-fragrance-comes-from-within-itself-bliss-is-not-to-be-found-outside-mata-amritanandamayi
look-not-for-musk-in-dogs-kennel-george-herbert
elon-musk-is-cool-cookie
whose-seal-is-muskthis-is-what-competitors-should-compete-for-almutaffifin-26
no-scent-is-more-sensual-more-memorable-to-me-than-musk
in-my-garden-i-pick-musk-melon-feeling-like-thief-yosa-buson
do-not-resemble-menever-be-like-musk-melon-cut-in-two-identical-halves-matsuo-basho
the-fabled-musk-deer-searches-world-over-for-source-scent-which-comes-from-itself-ramakrishna
elon-musk-is-incredible-leader-entrepreneur-i-have-known-him-since-1995-when-he-first-came-to-silicon-valley
oer-folded-blooms-on-swirls-musk-the-beetle-booms-adown-glooms-and-bumps-along-dusk-james-whitcomb-riley
we-all-have-our-safe-places-where-none-are-invited-they-are-lonely-rooms-full-musk-memory-sanctuary-rather-than-adventure-basith
lirralei-was-girl-stormwinds-thorns-musk-wild-rose-flight-falcon-rosamund-hodge
for-decades-technology-entrepreneurship-has-been-revered-people-like-steve-jobs-elon-musk-were-heroes
we-justify-greeds-ways-we-play-holy-game-musk-perfume-smell-like-fortune-liv-kristine
musk-is-a-class-of-aromatic-substances-is-extracted-from-the-bottom-of-a-civet-and-is-used-as-an-ingredient-to-make-perfumes
mark-zuckerberg-talks-about-telepathy-elon-musk-has-invested-in-trying-to-create-brain-machine-interface
funny-isnt-it-the-airlines-go-to-all-that-trouble-to-keep-you-from-taking-gun-on-board-then-they-just-hand-you-dinner-roll-you-could-kill-musk-ox-dave-barry
beauty-was-empty-as-gourd-vain-as-parakeet-but-it-had-power-it-smelled-musk-oranges-made-you-close-your-eyes-in-prayer-janet-fitch
i-know-bank-where-wild-thyme-blows-where-oxlips-nodding-violet-grows-quite-overcanopied-with-luscious-woodbine-with-sweet-muskroses-with-eglantine-william-shakespeare
ghostface-catch-blast-hype-verse-my-glock-bursts-leave-in-hearse-i-did-worse-i-come-rough-tough-like-elephant-tusk-ya-head-rush-fly-like-egyptian-ghostface-killah
fast-fading-violets-coverd-up-in-leaves-and-midmays-eldest-child-the-coming-muskrose-full-dewy-wine-the-murmurous-haunt-flies-on-summer-eves-john-keats
we-laugh-at-efforts-musk-deer-to-find-source-scent-which-comes-from-itself-despair-at-our-efforts-to-find-peace-which-is-our-essence-ramakrishna
making-money-selling-manure-is-better-than-losing-money-selling-musk
in-cage-wireribs-the-size-mans-head-macaw-bristles-in-staring-combustion-suffers-stoking-devils-his-eyes-in-old-ladys-parlour-where-aspidistra-succumbs-to-musk-faded-velvet-he-ha
What do you know about me, Isabeau?" He leaned forward, and I forced myself to stay still instead of shying away. He was so close that I could smell the subtle notes of his cologne: musk and wood with a hint of leather. What did he want me to say? That everyone said he was an ogre? Or that they all wanted to sleep with him anyway? "I... " "Go on. You won't hurt my feelings." He was still smiling, slight dimples visible in both cheeks. The sight was destracting, to say the least. "I know that you're the youngest CEO and partner in the company's history, and I know that you earned the spot by working your way up after graduate school instead of using your inheritance as a crutch." "Everyone knows that. What do you know about me? The real stuff. None of this press release bullshit." I looked down at my hands, anything not to have to look up at his face so close to me. "Um. People say... they say that you're scary. And that your assistants don't last long." He laughed, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill up the office. I glanced up to see him smirking at me. I relaxed my grip on the desk a little. Maybe I wasn't being fired after all. "What else do they say?" Oh, God. He can't possibly want me to tell him everything. Does he? The look on his face confirmed that he did. It was clear by the way he looked at me that I wasn't leaving this office until I gave him exactly what he wanted. "They say. Um... They say that you're very, uh, good looking... and impossible to please." "Oh they do, do they?" He sat back, and tented his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, do you agree with them? Do you think I'm scary, handsome and woefully unsatisfied?" My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it with a snap. "Yes. I mean, no! I mean, I don't know... " He stood, then, and leaned in close, towering over me. "You were right the first time." Anxiety coursed through me, but I have to admit, being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling the heat radiating off his body, it made me wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To be his. To be owned by him... His face was almost touching mine when he whispered to me. "I am unsatisfied, Isabeau. I want you to be my new assistant. Will you do that for me? Will you be at my beck and call?" My breath left me as his words sunk in. When I finally regained it, I felt like I was trembling from head to toe. His beck and call. "Wh-what about your old assistant?" Mr. Drake leaned back again and took my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes to his. "What about her? I want you." His touch on my skin was electric. Are we still talking about business? "Yes, Mr. Drake." His thumb stroked my cheek for the briefest of moments, and then he released me, breathless, and wondering what I'd just agreed to.

Delilah Fawkes
what-do-you-know-about-me-isabeau-he-leaned-forward-i-forced-myself-to-stay-still-instead-shying-away-he-was-close-that-i-could-smell-subtle-notes-his-cologne-musk-wood-with-hint
Thus spoke the Beauty and her voice had a cheerful ring, and her face was aflame with a great rejoicing. She finished her story and began to laugh quietly, but not cheerfully. The Youth bowed down before her and silently kissed her hands, inhaling the languid fragrance of myrrh, aloe and musk which wafted from her body and her fine robes. The Beauty began to speak again. 'There came to me streams of oppressors, because my evil, poisonous beauty bewitches them. I smile at them, they who are doomed to death, and I feel pity for each of them, and some I almost loved, but I gave myself to no one. Each one I gave but one single kiss - and my kisses were innocent as the kisses of a tender sister. And whomsoever I kissed, died.' The soul of the troubled Youth was caught in agony, between two quite irresolvable passions, the terror of death and an inexpressible ecstasy. But love, conquering all, overcoming even the anguish of death's grief, was triumphant once again today. Solemnly stretching out his trembling hands to the tender and terrifying Beauty, the Youth exclaimed, 'If death is in your kiss, o beloved, let me revel in the infinity of death. Cling to me, kiss me, love me, envelop me with the sweet fragrance of your poisonous breath, death after death pour into my body and into my soul before you destroy everything that once was me!' 'You want to! You are not afraid!' exclaimed the Beauty. The face of the Beauty was pale in the rays of the lifeless moon, like a guttering candle, and the lightning in her sad and joyful eyes was trembling and blue. With a trusting movement, tender and passionate, she clung to the Youth and her naked, slender arms were entwined about his neck. 'We shall die together!' she whispered. 'We shall die together. All the poison of my heart is afire and flaming streams are rushing through my veins, and I am all enveloped in some great holocaust.' 'I am aflame!' whispered the Youth, 'I am being consumed in your embraces and you and I are two flaming fires, burning with the immense ecstasy of a poisonous love.' The sad and lifeless moon grew dim and fell in the sky - and the black night came and stood watch. It concealed the secret of love and kisses, fragrant and poisonous, with gloom and solitude. And it listened to the harmonious beating of two hearts growing quieter, and in the frail silence it watched over the final delicate sighs. And so, in the poisonous Garden, having breathed the fragrances which the Beauty breathed, and having drunk the sweetness of her love so tenderly and fatally compassionate, the beautiful Youth died. And on his breast the Beauty died, having delivered her poisonous but fragrant soul up to sweet ecstasies. ("The Poison Garden")

Valery Bryusov
thus-spoke-beauty-her-voice-had-cheerful-ring-her-face-was-aflame-with-great-rejoicing-she-finished-her-story-began-to-laugh-quietly-but-not-cheerfully-the-youth-bowed-down-befor
Moving on, while he wondered, the dark through which Mr. Lecky's light cut grew more beautiful with scents. Particles of solid matter so minute, gases so subtle, that they filtered through stopping and sealing, hung on the unstirred air. Drawn in with Mr. Lecky's breath came impalpable dews cooked out of disintegrating coal. Distilled, chemically split and reformed, they ended in flawless simulation of the aromas of gums, the scent of woods and the world's flowers. The chemists who made them could do more than that. Loose on the gloom were perfumes of flowers which might possibly have bloomed but never had, and the strong-smelling saps of trees either lost or not yet evolved. Mixed in the mucus of the pituitary membrane, these volatile essences meant more than synthetic chemistry to Mr. Lecky. Their microscopic slime coated the bushed-out ends of the olfactory nerve; their presence was signaled to the anterior of the brain's temporal lobe. At once, thought waited on them, tossing down from the great storehouse of old images, neglected ideas - sandalwood and roses, musk and lavender. Mr. Lecky stood still, wrung by pangs as insistent and unanswerable as hunger. He was prodded by the unrest of things desired, not had; the surfeit of things had, not desired. More than anything he could see, or words, or sounds, these odors made him stupidly aware of the past. Unable to remember it, whence he was, or where he had previously been, all that was sweet, impermanent and gone came back not spoiled by too much truth or exact memory. Volatile as the perfumes, the past stirred him with longing for what was not - the only beloved beauty which you will have to see but which you may not keep. Mr. Lecky's beam of light went through glass top and side of a counter, displayed bottles of colored liquid - straw, amber, topaz - threw shadows behind their diverse shapes. He had no use for perfume. All the distraction, all the sense of loss and implausible sweetness which he felt was in memory of women. Behind the counter, Mr. Lecky, curious, took out bottles, sniffed them, examined their elaborately varied forms - transparent squares, triangles, cones, flattened ovals. Some were opaque, jet or blue, rough with embedded metals in intricate design. This great and needless decoration of the flasks which contained it was one strange way to express the inexpressible. Another way was tried in the names put on the bottles. Here words ran the suggestive or symbolic gamut of idealized passion, or festive night, of desired caresses, or of abstractions of the painful allure yet farther fetched. Not even in the hopeful, miracle-raving fancy of those who used the perfumes could a bottle of liquid have any actual magic. Since the buyers at the counters must be human beings, nine of every ten were beyond this or other help. Women, young, but unlovely and unloved, women, whatever they had been, now at the end of it and ruined by years or thickened to caricature by fat, ought to be the ones called to mind by perfume. But they were not. Mr. Lecky held the bottle in his hand a long while, aware of the tenth woman.

James Gould Cozzens
moving-on-while-he-wondered-dark-through-which-mr-leckys-light-cut-grew-more-beautiful-with-scents-particles-solid-matter-minute-gases-subtle-that-they-filtered-through-stopping-
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