Fragrance Related Quotes

Become individuals, that’s the first thing. The second thing is, don’t expect perfection and don’t ask and don’t demand. Love ordinary people. Nothing is wrong with ordinary people. Ordinary people are extraordinary! Each human being is so unique; have respect for that uniqueness. Third, give, and give without any condition—then you will know what love is. I cannot define it. I can show you the path to grow it. I can show you how to put in a rosebush, how to water it, how to give fertilizers to it, how to protect it. Then one day, out of the blue, comes the rose, and your home is full of the fragrance. That’s how love happens.

I chug duck soup like a giraffe that has a tornado for a neck. I’m sure you can relate. I've captured the whole experience in my newest gender-gradient fragrance that has so many notes I call it Liquid Saxophone Romance.

As the sun and each atom of ether is a sphere complete in itself, and yet at the same time only a part of a whole too immense for man to comprehend, so each individual has within himself his own aims and yet has them to serve a general purpose incomprehensible to man. A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is afraid of bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet admires the bee sucking from the chalice of a flower and says it exists to suck the fragrance of flowers. A beekeeper, seeing the bee collect pollen from flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it exists to gather honey. Another beekeeper who has studied the life of the hive more closely says that the bee gathers pollen dust to feed the young bees and rear a queen, and that it exists to perpetuate its race. A botanist notices that the bee flying with the pollen of a male flower to a pistil fertilizes the latter, and sees in this the purpose of the bee's existence. Another, observing the migration of plants, notices that the bee helps in this work, and may say that in this lies the purpose of the bee. But the ultimate purpose of the bee is not exhausted by the first, the second, or any of the processes the human mind can discern. The higher the human intellect rises in the discovery of these purposes, the more obvious it becomes, that the ultimate purpose is beyond our comprehension. All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee to other manifestations of life. And so it is with the purpose of historic characters and nations.

Where kin are relations of kind, kith is relationship based on knowledge of place—the close landscape, “one’s square mile,” as Griffiths writes, where each tree and neighbor and robin and fox and stone is known, not by map or guide but by heart. Kith is intimacy with a place, its landmarks, its fragrance, the habits of its wildlings.

He remembered as never before how exquisite and beautiful she was, and her kisses tasting of crème de menthe and her fragrance of Coty perfume would be new and sweeter than ever after the coca and the rustic perfumes of these valleys. What a feeling of satin, that of her red lips under his cracked by the wind and the sun! The astonishment in her blue eyes when he related his odyssey through these wild mountains!

A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is afraid of bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet admires the bee sucking from the chalice of a flower and says it exists to suck the fragrance of flowers. A beekeeper, seeing the bee collect pollen from flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it exists to gather honey. Another beekeeper who has studied the life of the hive more closely says that the bee gathers pollen dust to feed the young bees and rear a queen, and that it exists to perpetuate its race. A botanist notices that the bee flying with the pollen of a male flower to a pistil fertilizes the latter, and sees in this the purpose of the bee’s existence. Another, observing the migration of plants, notices that the bee helps in this work, and may say that in this lies the purpose of the bee. But the ultimate purpose of the bee is not exhausted by the first, the second, or any of the processes the human mind can discern. The higher the human intellect rises in the discovery of these purposes, the more obvious it becomes, that the ultimate purpose is beyond our comprehension. All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee to other manifestations of life. And so it is with the purpose of historic characters and nations.

I still experience this chill today when a song or chant touches some place inside my body that my mind cannot name... Harmony, like the chill, reveals itself. We need a body in which it can be revealed. Harmony is seen, heard, and felt with the body. It resides in the body and it is only through the body that we experience harmony. Thus, harmony may be seen as an expression of the body, of nature. It expresses itself without our doing. We have nothing to do with the fragrance of harmony... Given this, we need not insist that discussions of race, sexuality, and gender adversely affect the appearance of harmony or cause it to disappear. The notion that acknowledging lived experience is misaligned with spirituality is something we've made up in our minds, and not the natural reality of things. We must study the self in order to discover harmony in our own lives. We must listen to the earth right under our feet no matter what. We must constantly be attuned to the unfolding of life as it presents the multitude of variations in which harmony manifests in nature as oneness... If we carry awareness of the body as our inheritance of nature, as tender as a maple leaf or a small hummingbird, then the experience of complete tenderness can rise and swell within our ever-evolving relative reality.

So Beaujolais is like this hybrid---a red that drinks like a white, we even put a chill on it. Maybe that's why it has trouble, it doesn't quite fit. No one takes Gamay seriously---too light, too simple, lacks structure. But..." I swirled the glass and it was so... optimistic. "I like to think it's pure. Fleurie sound like flowers doesn't it?" "Girls love flowers," she said judiciously. "They do." I put her wine down, then moved it two inches closer to her, where I knew the field of her focus began. "None of that means anything. It just speaks to me. I feel invited to enjoy it. I get roses." "Child, what is wrong with you? There's no roses in the damn wine. Wine is wine and it makes you loose and helps you dance. That's it. The way you kids talk, like everything is life or death." "It's not?" "You ain't even learned about living yet!" I thought about buying wine. About how I would scan the different Beaujolais crus at the liquor store---the Morgan, the Côte de Brouilly, the Fleurie would be telling me a story. I would see different flowers when I looked at the labels. I thought about the wild strawberries dropped off from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm just that afternoon and how the cooks laid out paper towels and sheet trays in the kitchen, none of them touching, as if they would disintegrate, their fragrance euphoric.

Why can’t a night like that be longer? If Alectryon could put a foot wrong,101 why can’t the sun be compassionate enough to do the same? Still, now it is over and I want never to see her again. Once a girl has given away everything, she is weak, she has lost everything; for in the man innocence is a negative factor, while for the woman it is her whole worth. Now all resistance is impossible, and only when it is there is it beautiful to love; once it is gone, love is only weakness and habit. I do not wish to be reminded of my relation to her; she has lost her fragrance, and the time has gone when, for pain over her untrue lover, a girl is transformed into a heliotrope.102 I will not take leave of her; nothing disgusts me more than a woman’s tears and a woman’s prayers, which change everything yet are really of no consequence. I have loved her, but from now on she can no longer engage my soul. If I were a god I would do for her what Neptune did for a nymph: change her into a man. Nevertheless, it would really be worthwhile knowing whether one couldn’t poetize oneself out of a girl, whether one couldn’t make her so proud that she imagined it was she who had wearied of the relationship. It could become a quite interesting epilogue, which in its own right might be of psychological interest, and besides that, enrich one with many erotic observations.

The lotus is one of the most commercially successful sources of inspiration for biomimetic products. Apart from their intoxicating, heavenly fragrance, lotus plants are a symbol of purity in some major religions. More than two thousand years ago, for example, the Bhagavad Gita, one of India's ancient sacred scriptures, referred to lotus leaves as self-cleaning, but it wasn't until the late 1960s that engineers with access to high-powered microscopes began to understand the mechanism underlying the lotus' dirt-free surface. German scientist Dr. Wilhelm Barthlott continued this research, finding microstructures on the surface of a lotus leaf that cause water droplets to bead up and roll away particles of mud or dirt. Like many biomimics, this insight came quickly, while its commercialization took many years more. The "Lotus Effect"-short for the superhydrophobic (water-repelling) quality of the lotus leaf's micro to nanostructured surface-has become the subject of more than one hundred related patents and is one of the premier examples of successfully commercialized biomimicry.

Relations are also like living things, they breath, grow and make our lives wonderful and happier by their fragrance. Don't press or crush their necks……! let them breath……! let them grow……! because if we are climbing a mountain, each step may get harder but we should keep going, because we know that the view will be very beautiful from the Top....! take good care of you and your relations...!

Szechuan Ginger Beer The schizoid effect of ginger on the palate — at once hot and cooling — is reinforced in this recipe with an added kick of aromatic Szechuan peppercorns. This pepper, named after its native Szechuan province of China, is the dried berry of prickly ash (Zanthoxylum spp.) and is not related to the vine peppercorn (Piper nigrum) commonly served at tables. It has a fruity, floral fragrance that is a wonderful complement to the pungency of ginger. This recipe does not begin with a flavor base. Follow the complete brewing instructions to make one gallon of Szechuan Ginger Beer. TO BREW 1 GALLON 31⁄2 quarts water 4 ounces fresh gingerroot, coarsely grated 1 tablespoon Szechuan peppercorns 1 pound sugar 2 tablespoons unflavored rice vinegar 1⁄8 teaspoon champagne yeast (Saccharomyces bayanus) Combine the water, ginger, and peppercorns in a large pot. Bring to a simmer over medium heat. Let simmer for 5 minutes, then add the sugar and vinegar, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Remove from the heat and let cool until the mixture reaches warm room temperature, from 75 to 80°F. Strain out the ginger and peppercorns. Add the yeast, stirring until it is completely dissolved. Pour the mixture into sanitized plastic bottles (see here) using a sanitized kitchen funnel, leaving 11⁄4 inches of air space at the top of each bottle. Seal the bottles. Store for 3 to 5 days at room temperature. When the bottles feel rock hard, the soda is fully carbonated. Refrigerate for at least 1 week before serving; drink within 3 weeks to avoid overcarbonation.

First Encounters with Joy At some point around this time, Lewis’s already rich imaginative life took a new turn. Lewis later recalled three early experiences which he regarded as shaping one of his life’s chief concerns. The first of these took place when the fragrance of a “flowering currant bush” in the garden at Little Lea triggered a memory of his time in the “Old House”—Dundela Villas, which Albert Lewis had then rented from a relative.[29] Lewis speaks of experiencing a transitory, delectable sense of desire, which overwhelmed him. Before he had worked out what was happening, the experience had passed, leaving him “longing for the longing that had just ceased.” It seemed to Lewis to be of enormous importance. “Everything else that had ever happened to me was insignificant in comparison.” But what did it mean? The second experience came when reading Beatrix Potter’s Squirrel Nutkin (1903). Though Lewis admired Potter’s books in general at this time, something about this work sparked an intense longing for something he clearly struggled to describe—“the Idea of Autumn.”[30] Once more, Lewis experienced the same intoxicating sense of “intense desire.” The third came when he read Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s translation of a few lines from the Swedish poet Esaias Tegnér (1782–1846):[31] I heard a voice that cried, Balder the beautiful Is dead, is dead— Lewis found the impact of these words devastating. It was as if they opened a door that he did not know existed, allowing him to see a new realm beyond his own experience, which he longed to enter and possess. For a moment, nothing else seemed to matter. “I knew nothing of Balder,” he recalled, “but instantly I was uplifted into huge regions of northern sky, [and] I desired with almost sickening intensity something never to be described (except that it is cold, spacious, severe, pale, and remote).”[32] Yet even before Lewis had realised what was happening to him, the experience passed, and left him longing to be able to reenter it.

Satrangi Re” is a compilation of Hindi stories encompassing unique colors of love, relations, friendship, parent-child associations, and passion & emotions. These are my stories, your stories, and stories of our lives. These are the stories of seven different colors, fragrances, and flavors which after placing them together make a splendid rainbow, a vibrant bouquet, and a scrumptious buffet of stories. So, what are you waiting for? Pick up your cup of tea, a mug of coffee, a bowl of Maggi, and dive deep into your childhood innocence, youthful negligence, the hustle & bustle of relationships, the whiff of first love, the huddle of friends, and affectionate scolding of parents. And while doing all this, close your computer’s window and look outside the real window of your house and the window of your heart, which you might not have opened for weeks and months and try to see the splendid rainbow that you may have not seen for a long time. Saw your rainbow? If yes, Congrats. it’s the icing on the cake. If not, don’t worry…you have. Satrangi Re…. Now Available on Amazon and Flipkart....

My Golden Earth (The Sonnet) O my golden earth, I am but your stupid lover. The flute of your dazzling fragrance, Makes my agonies disappear. Whenever your sky is cloudy, My heart drowns in drought. Whenever your oceans quiver, With tears my eyes get fraught. Whenever you giggle in prosperity, It pours honey into my ears. Whenever you shine with festivals, Light and love erase my historic fears. You are my home o my golden earth. All your children are my sisters and brothers.

An exercise in illusion via allusion. Wear it and after a few hours you will find your daily life suffused by the same feeling of peace you get when you settle into an armchair after tidying your apartment from end to end. If you think of all the best Chanel fragrances as varieties of little black dress - sleek, dependable, perfectly proportioned - Bois des iles is the one in cashmere. I have worn it on and off for years, whenever I felt I needed extra insulation from the cold world. To my nose Chinatown ( Bond No. 9 ) smells like a corner of a small French grocery in summer, in the exact spot where the smell of floor wax meets that of ripe peaches. Lignin, the stuff that prevents all trees from adopting the weeping habit, is a polymer made up of units that are closely related to vanillin. When made into paper and stored for years, it breaks down and smells good. Which is how divine providence has arranged for secondhand bookstores to smell like good quality vanilla absolute, subliminally stoking a hunger for knowledge in all of us. Perfume is, among other things, the most portable form of intelligence. Oman was making perfumes when Europeans only bathed once a year on doctor's orders. Chanel No. 5 is a Brancusi. The beauty and fragrance industry has lied to women for so long, convincing us to fork over cash for crud in shiny packages, that at this point event pure quality has trouble getting taken seriously. Clever marketing can get us to buy something once, but rarely again. We don't wear Chanel No. 5 because Marilyn Monroe wore it, we wear it for the same reason that Marilyn did: because it''s gorgeous. Sycomore, Chanel. If putting it on does not make you shiver with pleasure, see a doctor. Aside from beautiful aircraft, nuclear power stations, food and wine, perfumery is France's biggest export, yet there is no perfume museum in Paris. The ability possessed by certain fragrances to briefly turn the most arid mind into a fairy garden, to make us lament the passing of loves and losses we know full well we never had, is a miracle specific to perfumery.

Love exists in three dimensions. The first dimension of love is the exclusive relationship with a certain person. There are many conditions and expectations in exclusive relationships. The moment a condition and expectation are not fulfilled, love disappears. Then love exists only when the other person is fulfilling your conditions and expectations. When you can possess the other person, then you are loving. But the moment the conditions is not fulfilled, love turns into hatred. This is the lowest dimension of love, which people ordinary call love when love is an exclusive relationship. The second dimension  of love is not a relationship. In the second dimension of love, one is simply loving. This has nothing to do with somebody in particular. One is loving whether one is alone or relating with somebody else. One is loving with the trees, the birds, the animals,the rivers and with the mountains. Then love is like the fragrance of a flower, which shares whether somebody is present or not. Now love has become a quality of our being.  The first dimension of love is an exclusive relationship, which includes conditions and expectations. The second dimension of is lovingness as a quality of being. The third dimension of love is love itself. One is not even conscious that one is loving. In the second dimension of love, thereis a certain self-consciousness that one is loving. The ego, the "I", is still there. Once you have attained to the second dimension of love, you have to wait until the third dimension of love happens. That is a gift of God. Then the self-consciousness disappears and only pure love is left. Everybody around you will feel it, but you will not be conscious about it. And the more you are without self-consciousness, the more others will feel it. 

Society is against the heart, because the heart lives through love. And love cannot be controlled and conditioned. The heart is basically rebellious. The heart always lives in the moment. It never repeats the old. The heart always responds to the present moment. This is why society is against the heart. Society disciplines the head, because the head functionslike a machine. Machines are never rebellious. They simply follow orders. They are obedient. Hence the state, the church and the establishment, the status quo, are interested in the head. Our heart is the door to allow existence to guide us – instead of being directed by our own ideas, attitudes and preconceived expectations of how life should be. The heart creates inconvenience for society and for the established order. The heart is spontaneous and never repeats the old. The head lives in the past, which is why the head is traditional and conventional.  The heart relates to unconditional love and acceptance both for ourselves and for other people.  The heart relates to qualities such as empathy, joy, acceptance, trust, intuition, understanding, compassion, playfulness, healing, friendship, sincerity and a sense of oneness in love. Love is not an exclusive relationship with another person; love is the quality that arises when we are in contact with our inner being, with our authentic self, withthe meditative quality within, with the inner silence and emptiness. This inner emptiness is experienced by others and is expressed on the outside as love. This love is not addressed to a specific person; it is a presence that surrounds a person like a fragrance. Love is perfect as it is. Love is enough unto itself. Love has to be understood. Love is the flight of your consciousness to higher realms beyond the body. Love is the fragrance of a rising consciousness. Love is like the fragrance of a flower. The moment you are overflowing with joy, a longing arises to share it. This sharing is love. Love is not something that you can get from somebody else, who has not attained to a state of joy. Everybody is asking to be loved, and pretending to love. You cannot love, because you don't know what consciousness is. You don't know the truth; you don't know the experience of the divine.  You don't know what love is, because you have not yet gone deeper in your consciousness. In this ignorance and blindness love does not grow. If you really want to know love, forget about love and remember meditation. Love is the defeat of all imposed rules and conditions. hence there is  a struggle between the individual who follows his heart and the collective who follows the imposed order. The individual who follows his heart has to be aware of this struggle, because he is moving towards the freedom of being himself. Being himself means that he is not going to be ruled by the collective, by the crowd. It means that now he will live according to his own heart, according to his own light. When he becomes independent, he will start feeling that he is  becoming one with the whole, one with the universal.  It is on the consciousness level of the heart that we begin to understand that we are not separated from life. We begin to understand that we are not small separate islands in a great ocean, but that life is one and that we all are small parts of the Whole. We begin to understand what is really important and meaningful in life. It is on the consciousness level of the heart that we begin to understand that life is about sharing, rather than hoarding. We begin to understand that life is about giving, rather than taking.

The comparison is neither wrong nor awkward since it can enlighten and fragrance life journey if one understands that as the context of knowledge and insight of education, but not as competitive or complex.” — E.S Quotes by Bertrand Russel and Ehsan Sehgal “Men are born ignorant, not stupid. They are made stupid by education.” — Bertrand Russell “Humans are born with incredible knowledge of the six senses; worldly education is the creation of humans based on the six senses. Education may be untrue, but it does not make anyone stupid.” — Ehsan Sehgal 27–06–2024 Note: Adding the content of ChatGPT will enlighten the comparison of both quotes. “The quotes by Bertrand Russell and Ehsan Sehgal both critique the impact of education on human intellect, but they come from different perspectives and imply distinct understandings of education and human nature. Bertrand Russell: “Men are born ignorant, not stupid. They are made stupid by education.” Russell’s statement reflects a critical view of formal education systems, suggesting that these systems can mislead and dull human intellect rather than cultivate it. Russell was known for his philosophical skepticism towards established norms and institutions, and this quote aligns with his broader critique of how education can sometimes propagate conformity, dogma, and uncritical thinking, rather than fostering genuine understanding and critical reasoning. Ehsan Sehgal: “Humans are born with incredible knowledge of the six senses; worldly education is the creation of humans based on the six senses. Education may be untrue, but it does not make anyone stupid.” Sehgal’s perspective acknowledges an inherent, almost instinctual knowledge in humans, related to their sensory experiences. He seems to argue that while education is a human construct built upon these senses and might be flawed or even incorrect, it does not fundamentally impair human intelligence. Instead of making people stupid, education is portrayed as a potentially misguided but still valuable attempt to structure and expand upon the innate understanding people have through their senses. Comparison: Innate Knowledge vs. Learned Ignorance: Russell: Suggests that ignorance is natural, but stupidity results from flawed education. Sehgal: Suggests that humans are born with an innate form of knowledge and that education, though potentially flawed, doesn’t diminish this intelligence. Critique of Education: Russell: Directly critiques education as capable of making people less intelligent. Sehgal: Critiques the truthfulness of education but separates this from the impact on intelligence. Nature of Human Intellect: Russell: Implies that human intellect can be compromised by poor education. Sehgal: Implies that human intellect remains robust despite the imperfections of education. Both quotes invite reflection on the purpose and effects of education. Russell warns against complacency and the acceptance of flawed educational paradigms, urging reform to foster true critical thinking. Sehgal, while acknowledging the fallibility of educational systems, seems to maintain a more optimistic view of human intellect’s resilience.

Eve was beside herself. Whatever this is, Deene had best appreciate—why are you staring at me like that?” He closed the door and stepped closer. The room was unusual, built with a small balcony overlooking a conservatory that might have been added as an afterthought, hence its relative warmth and humidity, and the lush scent of foliage blending with all the other fragrances wafting through the house. “Looking at you like what?” “Like… you just lost your best friend? Won’t it be wonderful to go home to Flint Hall, Elijah?” Elijah was better than my lord, and because she seemed to need it, he lied for her. “Wonderful, indeed. Have you told your parents yet that you’re going to Paris?” He had the sense she was waiting for him to leave Morelands first, unwilling to have his support even tacitly. “Not… not yet.” She set the perfect little gift down. “Louisa says I must, and she grasps tactics with an intuition I can only admire. I wish…” Her gaze went to the elegant little parcel. “I wish…” While Elijah watched, Jenny lost some of that distant, preoccupied quality that had characterized her since they’d finished their paintings. She gazed on that parcel as if it held secrets and treats and even a happy ending or two. Once they completed the twenty-minute walk back to Morelands, they’d have no more private moments ever. He’d leave for London at first light; she’d sail for Paris, probably before the New Year. “What do you wish, Genevieve?” Because whatever it was, he’d give it to her. His heart, his soul, his hands, passage to Paris—passage home from Paris. How he wished she’d ask him for that, but passage home was something she could only give herself. “Will you make love with me, Elijah? You’re leaving tomorrow, I know that, and I shouldn’t ask it. I shouldn’t want it, but I do. I want you, so much. Please?

But let’s say we believe that mercy and forgiveness are in fact foundational, innate, what we are grown from and can build on; also that they are hard to access because of these traumas and fears. What if we know that forgiveness and mercy are what heal and restore and define us, that they actually are the fragrance that the rose leaves on the heel that crushes it? So why today is it absolutely all I can do to extend mercy to myself for wanting to nip an annoying relative’s heel like a river rat? Forget extending mercy to this relative, who has so messed with me and my son—she doesn’t even know she needs my mercy. She thinks she is fierce and superior, while I believe she secretly ate her first child. Horribly, she is perfectly fine. I’m the one who needs mercy—my mercy. The need for this, for my own motley mercy, underpinned most of my lifelong agitation, my separation from life and self.

The fragrance of flowers and perfumes, fragrances the heart and mind; and the fragrance of character and conduct, fragrances the life and soul that, relates a happy and stable relationship.

In the dangerous kingdom of silence is our raft floating hundreds of corpses are visible on the shoreline burned in sunlight for long they are deformed those whose life had vibrated till now in happiness and grief electric current whose life once while vibrating from desire to desire those lives had flown In this dangerous kingdom of silence is our raft floating burning sun overhead on right is golden colour in the river green carpet on sandy strip peeps a naked man is seated on that strip all alone seeing the raft he jumps in water waves his hand while being washed away by tide as is wants to say something know one knows where he drowns in the heavy current with half ton biscuit and a few saris this small raft floats downstream Dark hall-room lavender fragrance touches nose many men are running this way trampling corpses of relatives jumps over for a fistful of food fights for it with each other dies hundreds of incorporeal species in electric light though goods for charity are not sufficient terrible dearth of vehicles and in order to reach the distressed area the administration never finds a way out in the absence of diggers between one to one & half thousand were buried in one pit Sir payment was Rupees two per day news further says that four persons in Bhootnath's house died when the house fell over them when they were sleeping though his state of affairs was more or less same happiness was not meagre in that tiny house today beneath open sky small time truck driver Bhoothnath stoops with his head between his knees the Sub Divisional Officer said. Twenty rupees more could not be given today from poverty alleviating fund because the person who has the keys to the cupboard has not come.

When a writer, hired one or politically, and emotionally related to a subject for whatever purposes, writes not in a neutral concept, and honest notion; indeed, then a lie becomes a significant and reliable history in the eyes of pseudo-intellectuals. Similarly, as a negative-minded focuses on the thorns of a rose, ignoring and avoiding its beauty and fragrance that prevails.