Orion sniffed. "Good. Then, worthy centaur, perhaps you could give me a ride to the village on your way back. Then I can make a few pennies wth my verses while you build us a shack and perform circus tricks for passersby." This was such a surprising statement that Foaly briefly considered jumping into the hole to get away.
She squeezed her eyes shut. 'No.' 'Excuse me?' She sniffed, opened her eyes then looked up. 'No. I don't wish you to leave.' His eyes changed from lukewarm to hot. The iron of the seat met her back. Oh yes, definitely she was the keeper at the zoo and she'd just offered her own leg, medium-rare, to the lion.
Don't you listen to them, Rexy," I cooed, and the cat sniffed my nose. "Rachel is a smart girl. She's not going to go out with a ghost no matter how sexy he is. She knows better. Jenkskie wenskie can just get bent." I beamed at Jenks, and he made an ugly face. "Rache, put my cat down before you mess with her kitty brain.
Miss Tick sniffed. 'You could say this advice is priceless, ' she said. 'Are you listening?' 'Yes, ' said Tiffany. 'Good. Now... if you trust in yourself... ' 'Yes?' '... and believe in your dreams... ' 'Yes?' '... and follow your star... ' Miss Tick went on. 'Yes?' '... you'll still get beaten by people who spent THEIR time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy. Goodbye.
I suppose.' Mousefur sniffed. 'No doubt it'll be up to me to teach them manners. Kits nowadays don't know how to show any respect.' Jayfeather's whiskers twitched with amusement. 'Don't you believe it, ' Purdy whispered. 'She was teaching Lilykit and Seedkit how to reach under the wall of the warriors' den and catch stray tails yesterday.
I sauntered to the kitchen, where the lone pot of afternoon coffee had been reduced to thick black syrup. Glad that no one was around to watch, I filled a Styrofoam cup halfway with the molten matter, swished it, and sniffed. Nose of burning rubber, with light tar accents. I topped it off with Sparklett's, then nuked it. Kills the germs.
What's that smell?" I froze. What? Did I really smell so distasteful he had only to lean in my direction to catch a putrid whiff of me? I stayed the urge to break his freaking nose for pointing out my stinkiness. He sniffed again. "I can't place it." "How bad is it?" I asked, my cheeks heating. "It's good. Some kind of flower." My first thought: Hurray! I don't stink. My second: Ohmygod!
When the time is right, you might right, you might consider telling Theo that you've been in love with him for a long time now.' Lucy sniffed. 'And I'm supposed to do this without Milk Duds? As if!' Doris laughed. 'You know, being true to yourself takes courage, Lucy. Great joy always requires great risk, and even effort.' 'Yeah. OK. But I've always been more of a drive-through person.
You want to stab me again, don't you?" He didn't look at all ashamed. "Think of it as testing the limits of your new abilities." I groaned. "I've created a monster." "I don't think someone who recently crawled from the grave should be throwing around labels like 'monster, '" he said, making sarcastic little air-quotes fingers. "It wasn't a grave, " I sniffed. "It was a comfy four-poster.
What's your name?' 'Names!' she sniffed, rolling her eyes. 'People always want names, don't they? They're mad about naming. I will let the moment name me.' she eyed Jack expectantly. 'You want me to name you?' he asked. 'People from the other side are very dull, ' she sighed. 'Give yourself a name for me. I don't need naming for myself, do I?
Father sat down on the edge of the narrow bed. "Corrie, " he began gently, "when you and I go to Amsterdam-when do I give you your ticket?" I sniffed a few times, considering this. "Why, just before we get on the train." "Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we're going to need things, too. Don't run out ahead of Him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need-just in time.
Corrie ten Boom
Father sat down on the edge of the narrow bed. "Corrie," he began gently, "when you and I go to Amsterdam-when do I give you your ticket?" I sniffed a few times, considering this. "Why, just before we get on the train." "Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we're going to need things, too. Don't run out ahead of Him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need-just in time.
Corrie Ten Boom
Construed as turf, home just seems a provisional claim, a designation you make upon a place, not one it makes on you. A certain set of buildings, a glimpsed, smudged window-view across a schoolyard, a musty aroma sniffed behind a garage when you were a child, all of which come crowding in upon your latter-day senses -- those are pungent things and vivid, even consoling. But to me they are also inert and nostalgic and unlikely to connect you to the real, to that essence art can sometimes achieve, which is permanence.
The dog approached again, cautiously. I found the bologna sandwich, ripped off a chunk, wiped the cheap watery mustard off, then placed it on the sidewalk. The dog walked up to the bit of sandwich, put his nose to it, sniffed, then turned and walked off. This time he didn't look back. He accelerated down the street. No wonder I had been depressed all my life. I wasn't getting proper nourishment.
As a young child I wanted to be a writer because writers were rich and famous. They lounged around Singapore and Rangoon smoking opium in a yellow pongee silk suit. They sniffed cocaine in Mayfair and they penetrated forbidden swamps with a faithful native boy and lived in the native quarter of Tangier smoking hashish and languidly caressing a pet gazelle.
William S. Burroughs
Mr. Emerson watched, almost breathless, as she swirled the wine in her glass expertly, then lifted it so that she could examine it more closely in the candlelight. She brought the glass to her nose, closed her eyes, and sniffed. Then she placed the glass to her plump lips and tasted the wine, holding it in her mouth for a while before swallowing. She opened her eyes, smiled even more widely, and thanked Antonio for his precious gift.
He paused in the hallway, sniffing the air. He scowled, sniffed some more. He pressed an intercom button on the wall. "Betty, I distinctly smell sewage. Could you get a plumber out here ASAP?" Several curly hairs fluttered in the air after he was gone. I clutched at the arm of the dentist chair. "This isn't a joke, Tub! I'm in trouble. We're all in trouble, the whole town, the whole world! You have no clue. You have no idea what kind of things we're dealing with here. There's a whole land of -
Guillermo del Toro
I wanted to get you flowers but none of the flower shops are open at this hour. I checked six all-night variety stores before finding any at all and this was the best of the-" "They're lovely, " Rachel interrupted as she took the flowers. Limp and sad-looking as they were, they truly were lovely to Rachel. They represented hope, and she accepted them gladly, offering a shy smile as she lifted them to her face and sniffed the delicate bouquet of- "Salami?" They were kept in the deli fridge, " he muttered, looking embarrassed.
It was never a good idea to laugh at a God as powerful as Hades. Although, the sight of him with cream-colored paint smeared in his raven dark hair and smudged on his nose was comical. "Already went that route. Me bedroom ended up a nasty shade of chartreuse. Took me a whole week to do it again." Hades sniffed, rubbed his nose, and looked at the paint on his fingers. "Damn it. It's in my hair, too, isn't it?
Pearl was hurring around my apartment, sniffing everything, including Rich Beaumont and Patty Giacomin, which neither of them like much. "Can you get Pearl to settle down?" Paul asked. "I could speak to her, but she'd continue to do what she wants, and I'd look ineffectual. My approach is to endorse everything she does." Susan said, "Come here, Pearl." And Pearl went over to her, and Susan gave her a kiss on the mouth, and Pearl wagged her tail; and lapped Susan's face, and turned and went back and sniffed at Patty.
Robert B. Parker
Leo resisted the urge to throw a grenade in Frank's face. "I suppose I should know who Pelops was?" "He was a prince, won his wife in a chariot race. Supposedly he started the Olympic games in honor of that." Hazel sniffed. "How romantic. 'Nice wife you have, Prince Pelops.' 'Thanks. I won her in a chariot race.
Henry drew a shaky breath. 'Do me a favor, Meg.' 'Anything, ' I whispered. 'Don't fall for Quinn O'Neill. If you're going to do this thing with him... go to this dance, don't fall for him.' 'Never, ' I said. 'I promise.' 'Because I'm all filled up on sad right now.' He sniffed again and I could tell he was more in control. 'And you can't ask me to sit by and watch you get all caught up in this guy. I can't handle that-thinking he swept you off your feet because he bathed in body spray and dressed up.' His voice sounded rough. 'I know you think I'm being funny right now, but I'm completely serious. Don't make me watch that happen.' 'You know my heart, ' I said. 'It's yours.
Laura Anderson Kurk
Once, [Rabbi Chanoch] Teller was traveling with 16 of his  offspring... while changing planes in Frankfurt, Teller noticed a German woman gaping. 'Are all of these your children?' the woman asked. 'From one wife?' 'Yes, God has blessed me with all these children, ' the rabbi replied. 'Haven't you heard about the population problem?'the woman sniffed. 'How many more children do you want to have?' Rabbi Teller paused and looked the woman in the eye: 'About 6 million, ' he said.
She still had her bad days, no question, when the black dog of depression sniffed her out and settled its crushing weight on her chest and breathed its pungent dog breath in her face. On those days she called in sick to the IT shop where, most days, she untangled tangled networks for a song. On those days she pulled down the shades and ran dark for twelve or twenty-four or seventy-two hours, however long it took for the black dog to go on home to its dark master.
And people think she killed him?" said Miss Tick. She sighed. "They probably think she cooked him in the oven, or something." "They never actually said, " said Tiffany. "But I think it was something like that, yes." "And did his horse turn up?" said Miss Tick. "No, " said Tiffany. "And that was strange, because if it'd turned up anywhere along the hills, people would have noticed it... " Miss Tick folded her hands, sniffed, and smiled a smile with no humor in it. "Easily explained, " she said. "Mrs. Snapperly must have had a really big oven, eh?" "No, it was really quite small, " said Tiffany. "Only ten inches deep.
Did you see them? They're kids, Nathan. Children, who ended up being in the wrong place, at the wrong time." I blew out a frustrated breath, tracking one of the angry young teens in topic as he was dragged kicking and yelling from the room. "They won't even consider switching sides. Plumber has them so scared, all they can see if the numbers advantage he has over us." "Numbers don't mean shit when you're fighters have the same level of skill as a two year old." He sniffed, shaking his head at the kid who was finally pulled from the room. "And that's insulting to two year olds.
A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him. Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!
...stories about [the German composer Johannes] Brahms's rudeness and wit amused me in particular. For instance, I loved the one about how a great wine connoisseur invited the composer to dinner. 'This is the Brahms of my cellar,' he said to his guests, producing a dust-covered bottle and pouring some into the master's glass. Brahms looked first at the color of the wine, then sniffed its bouquet, finally took a sip, and put the glass down without saying a word. 'Don't you like it?' asked the host. 'Hmm,' Brahms muttered. 'Better bring your Beethoven!'
There were adventure stories supplied with cloths for mopping your brow, thrillers containing pressed leaves of soothing valerian to be sniffed when the suspense became too great, and books with stout locks sealed by the Atlantean censorship authorities ("Sale permitted, reading prohibited!"). One shop sold nothing but 'half' works that broke off in the middle because their author had died while writing them; another specialised in novels whose protagonists were insects. I also saw a Wolperting shop that sold nothing but books on chess and another patronised exclusively by dwarfs with blond beards, all of whom wore eye-shades.
Witches are naturally nosy, ' said Miss Tick, standing up. 'Well, I must go. I hope we shall meet again. I will give you some free advice, though.' 'Will it cost me anything?' 'What? I just said it was free!' said Miss Tick. 'Yes, but my father said that free advice often turns out to be expensive, ' said Tiffany. Miss Tick sniffed. 'You could say this advice is priceless, ' she said, 'Are you listening?' 'Yes, ' said Tiffany. 'Good. Now... if you trust in yourself... ' 'Yes?' '... and believe in your dreams... ' 'Yes?' '... and follow your star... ' Miss Tick went on. 'Yes?' '... you'll still be beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy. Goodbye.
All that evening Nell sat alone in her bedroom trembling with curious satisfaction. For punishment Eva had been sent to her room without supper and Nell sat listening now to the even, steady sobs far off down the hall. It was dark and on the river shore a night bird tried its note cautiously against the silence. Down in the pantry, the dishes done, Suse and Jessie, dark as night itself, drank coffee by the great stove and mumbled over stories of the old times before the War. Nell fetched her smelling salts and sniffed the frosted stopper of the flowered bottle till the trembling stopped. ("Where The Woodbine Twineth")
Jeeter?" Grace whispered into her walkie-talkie. "Are you awake?" She waited. A few weeks ago, she and Jeeter had started chatting on their walkie-talkies late at night when she couldn't sleep. He always answered her call no matter how late it was. "I'm here, " his voice echoed back. "Trouble sleeping again?" "Yeah." "Another bad dream?" "Uh-huh, " she sniffed, unexpected tears flooding her eyes. My dad was calling for me, but I couldn't find him." She couldn't believe she'd said it. She'd never told anyone what she saw in her dreams. But Jeeter understood. He'd told her before that he had bad dreams too, since his mom had died.
Jo Ann Yhard
Butterfly?" Will said. "Why Butterfly?" "I believe it's a term of great respect, " Selethen said gravely. He was very obviously not laughing. Too obviously, Will thought. "It's all right for you, " he said. "They called you 'Hawk.' Hawk is an excellent name. It's warlike and noble. But... Butterfly? Selethen nodded. "I agree that Hawk is an entirely suitable name. I assume it had to do with my courage and nobility of heart. Halt coughed and the Arridi lord looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I think it referred less to your heart and more to another part of your body, " Halt said mildly. He tapped his finger meaningfully along the side of his nose. It was a gesture he'd always wanted an opportunity to use, and this one was to good to miss. Selethen sniffed and turned away, affecting not to notice.
Why don't we sit down and discuss this?' e‰ibhear offered. 'What's there to discuss?' Rhi demanded, flinging her arms in the air. 'I'm doomed! We're all doomed! What's there to talk about?' 'Well, to start... do you want biscuits with the tea I put out?' Rhi sniffed, nodded. 'Biscuits would be nice.' 'Excellent.' 'Wait, wait.' Izzy gawked at them. 'Biscuits? Tea? What are you two talking about?' e‰ibhear and Rhi smiled at each other before e‰ibhear explained, 'We can't sit around discussing pure evil without tea and biscuits, Iz. It's just not done.
While everyone adjusted themselves and their packs, Donna sniffed curiously at Louie's nose. Her attitude suggested she might want to make friends with the giant dog; Lou couldn't resist the temptation. Once Donna lured Louie in, she slowly, cautiously, turned about to align her hooves with Louie's head. Perhaps she didn't like dogs. Perhaps she didn't want a rival for Monty's attentions. Perhaps she was merely an impish tarkus much like the Dane himself. Cody watched as the Dane failed to grasp the gravity of his predicament. At the last moment, Cody smacked Louie's hind end, scuttling the devious donkey's murderous trap.
THEY SAY GIRLS ARE MADE OF SUGAR AND SPICE AND EVERYTHING NICE BUT ON THE REAL SOME OF YA'LL BITCHES ARE METALLY TRIFE BEGGIN FOR CHOKE OUTS ALMOST BE ON THE EDGE OF YOUR LIFE I SEEN IT ALL WHEN ??? LENT ME HIS WIFE DOUBLE D;S A HOTTER VERSION OF JESSICA ALBA BEOFRE HE LEFT HE TOLD HER TO CALL ME MASTER AND SET UP A CAMERA I SAID BITCH I AINT DOWN TO BE VIDEO TAPED, SHE SAID OKAY MASTER BUT PLEASE TAKE A SHIT ON MY FACE SHE HAD A BIG BAG OF DILDOS, HANDCUFFS, WHIPS AND CHAINS, CLAMPS, SUCTION TOYS BALL GAGS THIS SHIT WAS INSANE UNTIL NOW I THOUGHT THE BONDAGE WAS CREEPER BUT ADMIT I GOT A HARD ON WHEN SHE BEGGED ME MASTER PLEASE BEAT ME WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT WAS A BLUR SNIFFED SOME COKE FUCKED HER FACE TILL SHE HURLED IT WAS ABSURD SHE LOVED IT SHE FORCED MY HANDS AROUND HER THROAT DURING SEX' IT WAS AMAZING UNTIL I ACCIDENTLY CHOCKED HER TO DEATH
It's not your fault, ' Alec was saying. He sounded weary, as if he'd been through this sort of thing with his sister before. Clary wondered how many boyfriends she'd turned into rats by accident. 'But it ought to teach you not to go to so many Downworld parties, ' he added. 'They're always more trouble than they're worth.' Isabelle sniffed loudly. 'If anything had happened to him, I-I don't know what I would have done.' 'Probably whatever it is you did before, ' said Alec in a bored voice. 'It's not like you knew him all that well.' 'That doesn't mean that I don't-' 'What? Love him?' Alec scoffed, raising his voice. 'You need to know someone to love them.' 'But that's not all it is.' Isabelle sounded almost sad. 'Didn't you have any fun at the party, Alec?' 'No.' 'I thought you might like Magnus. He's nice, isn't he?' 'Nice?' Alec looked at her as if she were insane. 'Kittens are nice. Warlocks are-' He hesitated. 'Not, ' he finished, lamely. 'I thought you might hit it off.' Isabelle's eye makeup glittered as bright as tears as she glanced over at her brother. 'Get to be friends.' 'I have friends, ' Alec said, and looked over his shoulder, almost as if he couldn't help it, at Jace. But Jace, his golden head down, lost in thought, didn't notice.
YO EVERYBODY WANT HEAVEN BUT NOBODY WANT DEAD SHIT A LOT YOU KIDS WOULDN'T EVEN SETTLE FOR INJURED SO WHY YOU FRONTIN' LIKE YOU WANT DRAMA SEE THAT SHIT AIN'T FLY YOU NEED TO SPEND A COUPLE NIGHTS WITH A TRAUMA CENTER AND DID YOU EVER SEEN A CRACK BABY HOW BOUT A 30-YEAR-OLD WOMAN STRUNG OUT INTO A LITTLE OLD LADY YOU SEE SOME OF THESE FOLKS THAT GOTTA LIVE IN THESE STREETS TODAY EITHER SHOT UP, SMOKED, OR SNIFFED THEIR LIFE AWAY YEAH, YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT YOUR TRIPLE BEAM DREAM IT'S IRONIC CAUSE YOU CAN'T PASS EIGHT-GRADE MATH YOU DON'T KNOW THE HALF, THIRD, FOURTH OR FIFTH AIN'T OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE TALKING ABOUT YOU PUSHING A SIX AND FRONTIN' LIKE YOU GOTTA WATCH FOR THE NARKS YOU GOTTA WATCH FOR YOUR MOMMA WHEN YA ASS AIN'T HOME BY DARK YOU GOT A WATCH FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY AND WROTE A HALF A ALBUM WORTH OF RHYMES LIKE YOU LIVED IN QUEENS LITTLE NIGGA PLEASE WATCH THESE, WATCH THOSE FLY BY NIGHT MCS BITING JAY-Z'S FLOW, GO WITH THE BREEZE I BESEECH YOU GET YOUR OWN FLOW SO WHEN YOU BLOW UP YOU WON'T MAKE THE REAL HEADS WANNA THROW UP
Oh, Draven, " Simon said in a falsetto as he clasped his hands together and held them to his shoulder. He gave Draven a worshipful look. "You're my hero too!" Simon sniffed as if he were holding back tears and threw his arms about Draven's shoulders. "If not for you, that mean old boar would have eaten me alive." Draven pushed Simon away from him. "Get off me, you nimble-pated gelding." "But Draven, " Simon said again in his falsetto, "you're my hero. Give me a kiss." Draven ducked Simon's embrace and stepped behind Emily. "What are you? Moonstruck?" "Fine then, " Simon snapped. "Here, Emily, you kiss him for me." And before either one knew what Simon was about, she found herself tossed into Draven's arms. Their bodies collided. Draven's arms encircled her, and for a moment she couldn't breathe as she stared up into those startled blue eyes. Heat sizzled between them, skipping along both their bodies. Stealing their breath and setting fire to their blood. When Draven made no move to kiss her, Simon tasked. "Fine then, " Simon said, pulling her out of Draven's embrace and into his own. "Let me show you how a kiss is given." Simon dipped his lips to hers, but before he could make contact, Draven caught his chin in one hand and pulled his face away from hers. "If your lips so much as pucker near hers, I will geld you, brother." -Simon and Draven
I was in a copse of pine trees, and the pine was overpowering my scent. The pheromones of the big cat mingled with the pine and I spun around. I was smelling and looking for the flash of white, but I couldn't see it. I grew angry and I pawed at the earth. The aroma of the soil cleansed my nose as I leaned down and sniffed deeply. I slowly closed and opened my eyes. As I looked ahead I saw something. There, further on, I had another glimpse of the large white cat. She was stopped and her hindquarters were in the air. I stared, trying to figure out what she was doing. Her forepaws and head were on the ground, but her hind was wiggling. She was next to a tree, marking it, so I slowly paced in a zigzag pattern as I walked close to her. I was being cautious because poachers had been known to employ shifters to entice real animals in the wild. She turned her head and growled at me. I took it as an invite to come closer. I ran up to her and started circling. She was an albino panther as I thought. I paced closer, breathing deep. I was in the middle of Ohio, outside of a lost cougar and a few bobcats there were no big cats here, at least not counting lycanthropes, and this creature didn't smell like one of those. Her rump almost wagged in anticipation, and I felt my tiger body respond. I circled her, taking a swipe in her direction to see if she was going to respond negatively to me. The pink eyes followed me and she growled. I walked up to her, sniffed her face and neckline. I didn't smell any other male on her, and I walked to her raised rump. Burying my nose in her groin I smelled deeper, and she shifted her body. I felt it before I could see it. She was shifting, changing from albino panther to human. I sat on my hindquarters as I watched. Her white fur seemed to melt from her, sliding upwards, starting with her back legs. The flesh and fur on her feet slid forward, leaving human feet and calves. It was fully fleshed, unlike some lycanthrope changes when they're younger. The calves of her legs appeared, and slowly slid up. The panther flesh was sliding forward, slowly and methodically. Across her ass and groin, now lower back and stomach. The pheromones I smelled earlier were coming from her, the human form. I stood and started pacing behind her, and her panther head shook in a very human gesture. I stopped, fighting the desire to lean forward and lick her wetness with my large tongue. The flesh was sliding forward and as her teats turned into breasts, I growled in need. Next were her shoulders and arms, then her head and hands. As the transformation ended, there was a pile of fur and flesh lying in front of her. Her human form was beautiful; a full figured woman with long white hair, that was perfectly natural. She looked to be in her early forties, but didn't have a line on her face that she didn't want. In the corners of her eyes were small, but beautiful, crow's feet, laugh lines surrounded her mouth. She laid out with her former form under her, laying on it, propped up by her elbows. She smiled with the confidence of someone who was used to being in charge. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders, framing her body. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn't figure out who.
The Bear and the Maiden Fair A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair! The bear! The bear! Oh, come, they said, oh come to the fair! The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear! All black, and brown, and covered with hair! And Down the road from here to there. From here! To There! Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear! [He] danced and spun, all the way to the Fair! The Fair! The Fair! [... ] Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair! The maid with honey in her hair! Her hair! Her hair! The maid with honey in her hair! [The bear, ] smelled the scent on the summer air. The bear! The bear! All black and brown and covered with hair. He smelled the scent on the summer air! He sniffed and roared and smelled it there! Honey on the summer air! Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair! I'll never dance with a hairy bear! A bear! A bear! I'll never dance with a hairy bear! He lifted her high into the air! The bear! The bear! I called for a knight, but you're a bear! A bear! A bear! All black and brown and covered with hair! She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair, But he licked the honey from her hair, Her hair! Her hair! Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air! My bear! She sang. My bear so fair! And off they went, from here to there, The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair. ~"The Bear and the Maiden Fair",
George R.R. Martin
Then Jip went up to the front of the ship and smelt the wind; and he started muttering to himself, "Tar; Spanish onions; kerosene oil; wet raincoats; crushed laurel-leaves; rubber burning; lace-curtains being washed-No, my mistake, lace-curtains hanging out to dry; and foxes-hundreds of 'em-cubs; and-" "Can you really smell all those different things in this one wind?" asked the Doctor. "Why, of course!" said Jip. "And those are only a few of the easy smells-the strong ones. Any mongrel could smell those with a cold in the head. Wait now, and I'll tell you some of the harder scents that are coming on this wind-a few of the dainty ones." Then the dog shut his eyes tight, poked his nose straight up in the air and sniffed hard with his mouth half-open. For a long time he said nothing. He kept as still as a stone. He hardly seemed to be breathing at all. When at last he began to speak, it sounded almost as though he were singing, sadly, in a dream. "Bricks, " he whispered, very low-"old yellow bricks, crumbling with age in a garden-wall; the sweet breath of young cows standing in a mountain-stream; the lead roof of a dove-cote-or perhaps a granary-with the mid-day sun on it; black kid gloves lying in a bureau-drawer of walnut-wood; a dusty road with a horses' drinking-trough beneath the sycamores; little mushrooms bursting through the rotting leaves; and-and-and-" "Any parsnips?" asked Gub-Gub. "No, " said Jip. "You always think of things to eat. No parsnips whatever.
What's the big idea?" Sabrina demanded. "I declared war on you, remember?" Puck said. Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Is this another one of your stupid pranks?" Puck sniffed. "You have contaminated me with your puberty virus and you called my villainy into question." "First of all, puberty isn't a virus, " Sabrina said as she fought a tug of was with the Pegasus for her now rather damp pillow."Secondly, I'm sorry if I gave you the itty-bitty baby and boo-boo face. Do you wasnt me to give you a hug?" Puck curled his lip in anger. "Oh, now is the baby cranky. Perhaps we should put him down for a nap?" "We'll see who's laughing soon enough, " Puck said. "You see these flying horses?" "Duh!" "These horses have a very special diet, " Puck said. "For the last two days they have eaten nothing but chili dogs and prune juice." Sabrina heard a rumble coming from Puck's horse. It was so loud it drowned out the sound of its beating wings. Sabrina couldn't tell if the churn of the sound was worse for the Pegasus but it whined a bit and its eyes bulged nervously. Puck continued. "Now, chili dogs and prune juice are a hard combination on a person's belly. It can keep a human being on the toilet for a week. Imagine what would happen if I fed chili dogs and prune juice to an eight-hundred-and-fifty-pound flying horse. Oh, wait a minute! You don't have to imagine it. I did feed chili dogs and prune juice to an eight-hundred-and-fifty-pound flying horse. In fact, I fed them all the same thing!
I realized I still had my eyes shut. I had shut them when I put my face to the screen, like I was scared to look outside. Now I had to open them. I looked out the window and saw for the first time how the hospital was out in the country. The moon was low in the sky over the pastureland; the face of it was scarred and scuffed where it had just torn up out of the snarl of scrub oak and madrone trees on the horizon. The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon. It called to mind how I noticed the exact same thing when I was off on a hunt with Papa and the uncles and I lay rolled in blankets Grandma had woven, lying off a piece from where the men hunkered around the fire as they passed a quart jar of cactus liquor in a silent circle. I watched that big Oregon prairie moon above me put all the stars around it to shame. I kept awake watching, to see if the moon ever got dimmer or if the stars got brighter, till the dew commenced to drift onto my cheeks and I had to pull a blanket over my head. Something moved on the grounds down beneath my window - cast a long spider of shadow out across the grass as it ran out of sight behind a hedge. When it ran back to where I could get a better look, I saw it was a dog, a young, gangly mongrel slipped off from home to find out about things went on after dark. He was sniffing digger squirrel holes, not with a notion to go digging after one but just to get an idea what they were up to at this hour. He'd run his muzzle down a hole, butt up in the air and tail going, then dash off to another. The moon glistened around him on the wet grass, and when he ran he left tracks like dabs of dark paint spattered across the blue shine of the lawn. Galloping from one particularly interesting hole to the next, he became so took with what was coming off - the moon up there, the night, the breeze full of smells so wild makes a young dog drunk - that he had to lie down on his back and roll. He twisted and thrashed around like a fish, back bowed and belly up, and when he got to his feet and shook himself a spray came off him in the moon like silver scales. He sniffed all the holes over again one quick one, to get the smells down good, then suddenly froze still with one paw lifted and his head tilted, listening. I listened too, but I couldn't hear anything except the popping of the window shade. I listened for a long time. Then, from a long way off, I heard a high, laughing gabble, faint and coming closer. Canada honkers going south for the winter. I remembered all the hunting and belly-crawling I'd ever done trying to kill a honker, and that I never got one. I tried to look where the dog was looking to see if I could find the flock, but it was too dark. The honking came closer and closer till it seemed like they must be flying right through the dorm, right over my head. Then they crossed the moon - a black, weaving necklace, drawn into a V by that lead goose. For an instant that lead goose was right in the center of that circle, bigger than the others, a black cross opening and closing, then he pulled his V out of sight into the sky once more. I listened to them fade away till all I could hear was my memory of the sound.
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